Passing Bells
by PhantomLilac
Summary: A month after the events at the Opera Garnier, Christine seeks out Erik at the Giry's home to make amends. Sadly, he is not there...but is revealed to be held hostage at an abandoned asylum. After he is rescued, their road to love is far from easy, and when they are separated for seven years, does love truly never die? Major Raoul bashing. E/C as always
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have a sad apology to my recent readers of Pearls & Primroses...or my readers in general.**

**I felt like there was no real story I could write about Pearls & Primroses, to be honest I have had lots of trouble being consistent with stories. I am playing the part of Veruca Salt in the musical Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (based on the 1971 movie with Gene Wilder). I am also the advertising director AND one of the three assistant directors/producers for the musical...I have a lot of stress on my shoulders. I have worked on props nonstop, costuming, etc, so to continue writing fanfics as passionately I used to (and still love to) is very difficult with a tight schedule.**

**Bear with me, I'm not done yet with my writings, I do very much enjoy it, but I am trying to find interesting topics to write about and at the moment, an idea pops in my head, I write it...and then have nowhere to take it.. however, this story, Passing Bells, will hopefully be a better fic. So please, enjoy.**

.::.

**Christine**

I knocked firmly on the door of the home of Madame Giry. I was cold, and wet from the winter snow, but my conscience was clear, and I knew exactly to whom I would speak to.

"Madame! Please open up! It's Christine!" I called through the small crack underneath the doorstep. As I peered into the glass eyehole, a worn and old gaze pulled away, before the door squeaked and opened.

Madame Giry was never often trusting of others, but when she saw it was only but I, and not Raoul, she let me in, taking my coat and putting it on a drying rack.

"Oh dear, what were you doing out in the snow, and not in your lovely estate?" she asked, towel-drying my hair with a passionate tone.

I smiled daintily, about to speak of the true reason, when Meg walked in the doorway, though she wasn't smiling.

"Christine? What are you doing here? It's not safe, you know." she murmured, putting her hand on my shoulder.

"You know why I've come." I smiled pleasantly, though I knew it was uneasy for both Giry's.

"Yes, we do. And we're sorry, he's not here." Meg said. I thought for a moment. Meg could possibly be lying, but why would Meg lie to me? I decided to persist further.

"Then why isn't he? Wouldn't he come here first?"

Meg looked to Madame Giry in this sad expression, who only nodded, leaving me confused. Had something dreadful happen to him?

"Come in the kitchen, I'll tell you his fate and you won't like it...would you prefer chocolate chip or sugar cookies, Christine?" Meg inadvertently tried to change the subject, though it wasn't helping.

My heart skipped a beat. Had he died, or fatally wounded? Perhaps some sickness had killed him off. A queasy feeling hit my stomach.

"Chocolate chip." I replied as firmly as I could, taking a seat. Madame Giry warmed all three of us some nice honey tea, and I closed my eyes for a brief second before looking up to Meg. She didn't look at all different, other than that mature fear in her eyes that flashed in moments. Her hair was still that silky blonde I had always admired.

"Meg, before you tell me...is...is Erik dead?"

She shook her head, allowing me to sigh in relief.

"No, I don't believe so, but he's not exactly hanging on for dear life, either." Meg then cleared her throat.

"It all happened the night of Faust..."

.::.

**Meg's Flashback**

I perched at the throne that the Phantom had previously sat upon. The mob was all over the place, but I hoped they would not notice the glinting white mask in my hands.

Sliding it into the inner pocket of my cloak, I turned my attention to a sharp shriek, and the crack of a whip.

"WE GOT HIM! SURRENDER, PHANTOM!"

I had forced my way to the front of the cackling and enraged, drunken men, to find one, Piangi's cousin, Alberto, whacking the Phantom across the back with his bullwhip as hard as he could.

I looked the Phantom in the eye, whose eyes showed nothing but fear and a childlike innocence.

Suddenly, I remembered what he had done to protect me...three months before, and the blame he took for the revenge my mother sought, and I knew I could not let him die like this, he was like an estranged brother.

_"Hey! Stop!"_ I cried, punching Alberto in the arm. He turned abruptly, while all I could think of is how I could help Erik escape. Erik was gasping for breath, trying to stand up to help me again, but another one of the mob goons kicked him back onto the ground.

"And why so, little lady? Disrupt us again, and you'll join me in bed." This aroused laughter from Alberto's ghoulish remarks.

His attention then focused on his lackeys, who were all grinning with anticipation for his next move. I seized advantage and tore off part of my cloak, bandaging a nasty wound on Erik's arm that was soaked in blood.

"What is the meaning of this?" my mother, Madame Giry, had arrived, and was gazing in horror at the scene unfurled.

"Can it, old woman, we know you're raving mad!" one of the mobsters screamed at her.

As Alberto unveiled his idea to keep the Phantom hostage in the old asylum, I began telling him words of support.

"Don't worry, we're going to get you free, okay?" I whispered. He was in so much agony from his wounds, he did not respond, his eyes lulling to the back of his head as he was dragged away, abhorrently crying for Christine in his slipping unconsciousness.

.::.

**Christine**

"...and we would've rescued him, Christine, but Alberto would've surely taken advantage of my little Meg, just like Josef Buquet." Madame Giry concluded.

I looked to Meg, sudden empathy filling my tears.

"Is that why Erik killed Buquet? Because he did that to you?" I supportively murmured. She shook her head, then said to Madame, "She can be trusted. You can tell Christine."

Madame Giry looked out the night sky, shaking her head sadly, before her gaze returned to me.

"Erik didn't kill Buquet. He covered for me when I got my revenge. I punjabbed Buquet and threw him on stage, after what he had done." she vainly cried.

I nodded to both of them. They would never approve of the plan unfolding in my mind...I would rescue Erik, late at night tomorrow when no one would be guarding the entrance to the old asylum. The big question was-what cell would he be in, for the abandoned mental hospital was enormous, and who's to say there weren't other captives inside?


	2. Chapter 2

**Christine**

I stole away at midnight, clinging to the shadows of the streets, as Erik had taught me in his words of night in music, to disguise myself as I approached the massive, crumbling brick structure. From the outside, it was dead silent, but if there was someone inside torturing Erik...I prayed his screams would not make me scream louder than him.

I thought about Raoul. Was he worried about me? I had not been home for two days now. Now that I knew Erik was alive and needed help, I couldn't really think about Raoul's needs, could I? I felt responsible now for my poor angel's life. I had left him to die, and whatever torture he was going through now-now I knew he wasn't a deranged murderer-I felt I deserved more than he did.

I crept through a long, narrow hallway. The light from the cracks in the ceiling made the cobblestone an odd emerald green, I noticed. I heard noises from somewhere very distant, though the muffling certainly made it hard to tell if it was talking, yelling, or screaming.

Slinking across old cells long since abandoned, I took note of possible places to hide. The bars were broken in some places, if I needed to escape, I could get in and climb underneath the low-lying wooden beds.

Up ahead was a huge metal room lined with cells, I was certain. That's where the noise was coming from. By now, I was towards the back of the infrastructure. I have to admit, no matter how terrible it was that Erik was here, his captors chose well. The walls were lined internally with soundproof material...no one would hear him cry for help.

But I would find him, find him or bust!

I found a hole in the back of a wall that led through a little pipeline. I coughed at the dust that filled my lungs as I, quietly as possible, clambered in.

I couldn't stop thinking of what terrible things were happening to my fallen angel, as psychotic yelling and interrogation could be heard-but words were not clear. I slipped down underneath one of the wooden beds now, just as I had planned, as I saw figures approaching. I held my breath...I recognized them.

It was Alberto and Raoul's elder brother, Philippe! What was Philippe doing here? Just as soon as they appeared, so did Erik, as they flung him to the ground and whipped him across the chest. To my surprise, Erik, who I always thought of as tougher than a rock, cried out for mercy, to which he was whipped again, and he screamed.

Philippe grabbed him by the cuff of his collar, his green eyes mad with hate. I had never seen the serene, gentle Philippe ever hate anybody, but in response to my poor Erik, he was driven completely insane.

"So Christine Daae disappeared from the house yesterday! Can you tell me what you've planned with her? Where is she!?" Philippe screeched.

Erik sort of snuffed up his tears, and forced himself a sneer.

"I can see why she would, living with such pompous, foppish freaks!" he deliriously replied. Philippe punched him across the face, forcing him back on the ground.

"Give me the answer, you bloody demon! Or I swear to god, we'll electrocute you again!"

Philippe took his good hunting boot, and slammed poor Erik in the stomach repeatedly, until he was breathlessly panting for air.

I tried not to cry out. I felt betrayed by the whole deChagney family-and I felt pain for Erik, whose partially deformed lips parted and coughed up serious blood.

Alberto put his hand up on Philippe's shoulder.

"Calm, my friend, calm. We shall get answers from him tomorrow. Christine couldn't have gone far. I bet she went looking for him in the Phantom's lair, she always was sneaky, was she not?" he gurgled. Philippe looked at his feet, shuffling his tawny thumbs in his pockets.

"Yeah. I guess so. Give the freak his dessert and let's go."

Alberto sadistically grinned, before taking a knife from his pocket. Erik screamed bloody murder, trying to back up from where he had been lying painfully on the floor, before Alberto pinned him with one meaty hand on his chest, opening up the bottom of his shirt and beginning to carve something in with the light tip of the knife. I almost couldn't bear to look. Then the back of the blade handle hit him in the back of the head, rendering him stunned and sprawled across the ground, not moving.

As soon as the two men left, and I was certain they were gone, I leaped out of my spot, jumping to his aid. I looked down at his bare face. I had to be brave. Now...wounds...I couldn't exactly get him on his feet without fixing some of his wounds at least a little bit.

I looked down at his shirt, and I was almost disgusted by what was left down on his stomach.

_"Hell-spawned Demon"_

I covered it up with bandages I had packed away in my small purse. I knew it would scar over...but what else could I do?

"Angel, can you hear me?" I cried, shaking him in an attempt to break him out of shock. Knowing nothing would arouse him, I pressed my lips against his, forcing air into his lungs. He started breathing normally, but his blank expression didn't falter, so instead of just air, I kissed him, long and hard, wrapping my arms up underneath his and trying to lift him to his feet.

Erik's face was still dizzy and confused, and I wasn't sure if the blow to his head had made his vision doubled, but he recognized me.

"Chr-Christine..." he moaned. I let him lean on me for support, as I moved one of my arms down up and around his waist.

"I'm taking you to the Giry's, okay? They're going to make you feel better. Can you hear me? Nod your head if you can hear me."

Erik paused, before numbly nodding. His eyelids lulled gently, and if he passed out on the way to the Giry's, the plan would have completely failed.

"Okay. You have to stay awake for me. Erik? You have to stay awake." I ordered. Again he nodded, taking nervous steps. I could feel warm blood tricking and soaking my fingers as he was able to make it halfway out of the asylum.

When we made it to the Giry's, Madame's small hands cupped her mouth.

"Oh my god..." she gasped, then took a strong hold.

"Christine, put him upstairs immediately. I'll see what I can do." she said defiantly.

I closed my eyes as I slumped against the door, listening to him whimper and cry out as Meg and Madame Giry worked hard to save his life. If Erik died, I don't know what I'd do now. I couldn't go back to Raoul, but I couldn't stay single forever...I know I'd have to take up a job again, but where would anyone accept me, knowing I was linked to the Phantom tragedy?

I shook my head remorsefully. Erik had to live. He just had to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Christine**

I stood up warily as Meg approached, and she looked really relieved, clearing up some of my worries.

"He's awake, if you want to go see him. He's asked for you to come. I'm going to warm some towels for him, he's got a bit of a chill." she said simply, then before I could say thank-you, she dipped her head and walked away, Madame Giry following.

Quietly, I entered the room, shutting the door behind me to keep a draft out, before I sat myself by the bedside, where Erik was watching with round, moony eyes. He seemed to lack emotion, but his presence was still there in his gaze. His whole forehead, and the rest of his deformity, was patched up in thick bandages. His breathing was regulated now, but he lacked in words.

The back of my hand reached out gently to caress his good cheek, and I let loose a warm dimpled grin. Erik shuddered at my touch, but relaxed when I kissed his lips again.

"Christine..." he moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

"Yes, mon ange, I'm right here." I whispered. I felt his cheek again, only to realize what Meg had said was right, he was freezing cold.

Without another word, I wrapped my arms around him again, scooting as close as I could to his still body.

At the most awkward moment, Meg walked in, stared at both of us, then set the towels at the foot of the bed and left, locking the door behind her. She did not desire to disturb his slumber, thankfully, and did not say anything about the fact I was hugging him.

"You d-don't have to...h-help me Christine. G-g-go back to R-Raoul." he stammered through swollen, forced breaths.

"I can't go back to Raoul, can't you see, Erik?" I miserably responded, "Now that I know his brother was part of the plot...if he abused you, who's to say if I came back, I'd be beaten for running away."

He rested his hand on top of mine, before he let out a blank, pained moan. I let go for one second, reaching down to grab the blanket and towels. I pulled the blanket down, resting the towel on his loose and freezing clothing, before pulling the blankets up to our necks. My arms went right back around his chest, and once more he tried to object.

"You come here out of p-pity, Chr-christine. Go home, it's f-for the b-best." Erik growled through chattered teeth.

I rolled my eyes, snuggling my chin onto his shoulder.

"And now sh-she ignores me."

"I'm not ignoring you, Erik," I bluntly responded, "I am trying to keep you warm. How much does it take to prove to you who I've chosen?"

He grunted back, "N-nothing at all, because you have ch-chosen...Raoul and...that's...th-that."

I let go of him a second time, this time rolling on top of him so I could stare him in the eye, then bent down and kissed him long and hard. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure.

"Satisfied, you stubborn mule?" I teased. He shook his head, using the last of his strength to kiss me a second time, more passionately than the last.

"Okay, I'm good." He flopped back down, closing his eyes to sleep, though both of us knew we weren't.

.::.

**Erik**

It must've been morning, and my head was sore, my lips were swollen, and the sheets were flung about. Christine was lying beside me...and I still wasn't sure why she was here.

Stubbornly, I tried to sit up, only to feel sharp pain run down my spine. I let out a low cry and fell back down.

Her blue eyes were immediately above me, scanning my injuries for anything, before she fixed the bed and pulled the sheets up to my neck.

"And you, monsieur," she teasingly grumbled, "need to stay in bed while I go make you breakfast."

I rolled my eyes as she pressed another delightful kiss on my lips. It was only a month after she had left me with a single kiss, and now there were so many, I couldn't believe this was my same Christine.

I indeed felt a bit guilty...that she could not marry Raoul. I too was stunned when the Vicomte's elder brother came into the asylum and beat me black and blue, then kept showing up and demanding information. No...I did not wish to think of that horrible place and all the wounds I was dealt inside.

When Christine returned, she forced me to sit up, and made me eat. I didn't like eating, but then again, what harm could it do? It was not bad food-at this point, with the already undermining fact I had been fed only twice a week in the asylum, I was willing to eat anything to satisfy my hunger in the meantime.

"You're trying to fatten me up, Christine Daae!" I complained between bites. She laughed at this, before her expression faltered.

"I almost forgot. If I am not to marry the Vicomte, I need to earn a wage to pay for your medicine." she said, pouting to herself as unknown thoughts crossed her mind. I watched her, trying to perceive what thoughts she was coming up with.

"Then it's simple. I will need a job. Maybe a night club will have-"

"No!" I interjected, horrified with the thought of her working at such a filthy place, before I cleared my throat.

"No, I won't let you work at the night club. Perhaps...I know a man that has my wealth on him. My closest thing to a friend, really," I let the gears turn in my mind.

"Oh really? Would I know him?" Christine replied.

"Yes, I think you should. You know him as The Persian, but his real name is Nadir Khan...yes. Seek him out, but if you cannot find him, find a job at a bakery perhaps, but I will not see you in a night club, do you understand?" I scorned coldly. For a moment, I think I frightened her with my sudden change to seriousness, but she nodded, before walking over to the dresser to change into some nicer clothes.

I continued nibbling numbly on a flat bank of toast slathered with too much butter, before I watched her leave, bidding my love farewell until later.

I wished I could recover faster, but we all knew I was probably crippled for life. What I didn't tell Christine, that Madame Giry told me, is that the damage to my brain may cause memory loss...but I did not want to ruin her chances with me just yet...no...because I had succeeded in having _everything_ I ever wanted in just a few hollow hours.


	4. Chapter 4

**Christine**

Sadly, I had been completely unsuccessful in finding this Nadir Khan. I was tempted to go get a decent job as a waitress at the nightclubs...but Erik had gotten so furious, I had no idea what he had against them. Maybe he didn't like the idea of me catering to drunks, no matter if it was money or not.

I returned to the Giry's to find them all in the living room...I had no idea how Erik in his bad state had been brought down the narrow stair steps to a recliner. His eyes were closed in resting until I entered, to which he looked up, then closed his eyes again tiredly as he held a teacup to his lips and took a long, lengthy sip.

I looked to Meg, who nodded happily.

"Maman and I brought him down, if you were wondering," she responded for me.

"That's good. Fresh air from the window should do him some good." I chirped socially, then turned to Erik again, who was glowering and rubbing his forehead with exhaustion.

"Fresh air and lots of food...you're all going to fatten me up and make me a feast." he joked, though it lacked any heart. I sat delicately on his lap, resting my head on his chest. Erik began to delicately pull any tangles out of my hair with a relieved sigh.

"I looked for Nadir Khan and didn't find him. I'm sorry, Erik. Do you have his address?" I murmured.

"Yes, I probably should've given that to you earlier." he quietly responded.

"Nadir? You mean The Persian, right? He lives a few blocks away, I saw him go to the spice shop this morning." Meg exclaimed, and then shyly added, "I saw Raoul too. He approached me, and he was nothing but worried. Nothing scary like Philippe, he just asked if I knew where you were, Christine, and if I was alright. I told him I didn't know, but he was worried. I think writing him a letter would be okay, but nothing drastic."

It was usual of Raoul to be worried about me. He was sweet and caring, but I didn't love him the same as I thought I had. I honestly doubted he knew that Philippe was involved in this as well.

"Meg, that's not a bad idea. Is there any stationary about?" I asked. Meg nodded, fetching something from the kitchen, before returning with an ink pen and a few pastel papers and envelopes.

Erik raised his eyebrows in concern as he watched me carefully write.

_Raoul,_

_I know you are probably very worried about me. That is very sweet of you to think about me. I assure you I am perfectly fine, but I do not wish to marry anymore. I feel that I would be prisoner to sad memories in a life with you. Do not take it personally, I respect you as a childhood friend, but there I have realized there is no room for you in my heart. I am sorry._

_Christine Daae_

I tucked the paper into an envelope, licking my lips as I sealed it shut and placed it placidly on the table. I was sure Erik was uncomfortable, for his amber eyes flickered about without a response, before I curled back up in his hold and rested. I was happy with him. I never understood why my mysterious tutor had attracted me in such a way, like a moth to a candle light, and why it had never burned down, but even just around him made me happy.

I continued pondering while he was holding me gently, what sort of job I could take. I would certainly need one...

Would Firman and Andre take me back? I highly doubted that either would want me near them in fear the Phantom would follow...but what if I told them the Phantom was dead and I was only desiring to remain chorus girl or a minor role?

As I rested at last against Erik, asleep in his arms, I finally dared to grin in my slumber, knowing I had the perfect plan.

.::.

**Erik**

As Christine fell asleep in my arms from a collapse of her own exhaustion, I felt my own eyes lulling gently, but I had to stay awake for now. Madame Giry entered, dipping away at her own cup of tea, this time with a hint of elderberry, before she stared at me. Meg knowingly listened to her mother.

"Erik, we don't know how long it is until you go through a period of no memory. It won't last forever...I'm sure it will be temporary, but you should tell Christine, for we don't know what kind of pain she'll endure knowing that you don't recognize her or any of us." Madame Giry ominously warned.

She then proceeded to tell me some boring story about a patient she had who got blows worse than mine and had no memory for a year, and his lover went off and married another because of it, etcetera, etcetera, but at that moment, I was so drowsy, I was tempted to fall asleep myself. Christine shifted in her sleep, resting her head in the crook of my arms. I could not believe she had let me taint her beauty with my hideousness...but at the same time, I was glad she was mine and not the rotten Vicomte's.

As much a I hated to admit it, I knew Raoul was worried about her, and at some point, while I am still ill, or my memory fades for a short while, that their paths will cross and she'll choose to marry him...

Tomorrow, with the little money I had actually hid in my clothing while at the asylum...I will give to Meg and have her buy me a ring. I had to know now, that Christine was mine and mine forever.

My hand brushed through her curls as Madame Giry realized I wasn't listening, shook her head remorsefully, and began to leave me to rest here in the downstairs. It was for the better for a day that I slept in a more fresh and airy room, not in the damp, dark attic.

"Christine, I love you," I sung as silently as I could, before I smiled, relaxing my muscles as I dove into a perfect slumber. Cripple or not, I would give Christine all that I could give, and take what little I deserved.

.::.

**Christine**

I found that when I arose the next morning, Erik was still fast asleep so I knew now I would go find Andre and Firman, and hopefully get a job. I took another clean towel and wrapped it gently around his torso, kissing his cheek and let him rest some more. I prayed to God that his wounds would be healed so he could walk again, but by the large scarring on one of his legs and along his spine, not one of us was sure he'd ever make it again.

I took the streets, heading to that spice shop Meg had mentioned in hopes of finding this Nadir Khan and getting Erik's cash from him that we desperately needed.

I pressed on through the snow that would most certainly become heavy in an hour.

I swung the door open, which wasn't hard but swung faster because of the whipping winds, when I recognized two voices.

"You! Persian! You helped me down to the Phantom's lair!"

Raoul pushed past me, leaving me stunned. I tucked the scarf tighter around my face and hair, relieved he did not recognize me.

"Yes, my friend, what seems to be the matter?"

It made sense now that The Persian was here-he ran this shop, or at least worked here, for he cordially shook hands with Raoul.

"I'm looking for Christine...she left the home to go window shopping about a week ago and never came home. This letter showed up in the mail today...can you decipher its location?"

I pretended to look at herbs as I listened in on the conversation. Nadir had absolutely no idea, he seemed to be playing along until Raoul brought up a frightening response.

"My brother, the damned idiot, got himself killed leaving an asylum two nights back, by a man named Alberto Piangi. Alberto killed him for not keeping the Phantom sealed tight enough in an asylum. I feel bad for the raving monster for what my brother did...but I think Christine had something to do with his escape. She has to be with him right now! Do you have his location?" Raoul desperately begged. Nadir shook his head, before putting some fresh herbs in a bag and handing it to him.

"I assure you that because the letter says she's fine, that she's perfectly fine. Now, here's some calming tea. Please make it at home and relax, think this through. She's a young lady, she will come around." Nadir said. With that, Raoul sighed in defeat, then stormed off. Just like at the asylum, I waited until he was done, then turned to go to the register when Nadir was already in front of me.

I jumped back with a startled gasp, but he only smiled.

"Nice to see you, Miss Christine. Here for Erik's leftovers?" Nadir said with a cheeky grin. He took my hand gracefully and led me to a back room, handing me a large purse of money, then went to go fetch herbs. I followed him, wondering what he was doing.

"How is Erik, by the way? Meg stopped by yesterday and said you were looking for me, because he was very ill. The stupid bastard is always in trouble," Nadir joked. His olive hands weaved into a jar of what appeared to be honeycombs.

"He's fine, really, he is." I uncomfortably responded.

Nadir raised his eyebrows.

"You two must've been romping around the covers recently and for hours, Miss Daae, because your lips are scarlet and swollen." he teased.

My face turned bright red. How could he tell, and why ask such a personal question?

"Mister Khan, I would like to keep that information to myself," I stammered in embarrassment.

"I've been married and in love before, Miss Daae. Nothing to be ashamed of. Erik probably needed someone to love him, he's always so miserable and a downer. You're probably the only good thing to happen to him." Nadir continued, like this was a normal thing to say. Maybe it was a normal question in Persia, but not in France! I bit my lip, trying to die down the hotness across my cheeks.

"And here!" Nadir tucked the herbs into the purse. I felt sort of bad for going to see Nadir instead of my intended purpose to get a job...but this would do for now, and soothe Erik's wounds, maybe even heal him. And if not, now I had money to get him the right medicines. I thanked Nadir before returning out into the much colder atmosphere. If I still had time, I could maybe make it to the Opera House after I dropped this off. I dearly hoped so!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: To save confusion, I did a timeskip on purpose. The month was late October, and now it is January on this chapter :) yes, it is possible to snow in France in october. (I live in Kansas and it snowed in May last year o.O, don't ask, I thought it was just as weird.)**

.::.

**Erik**

Three months passed, and the herbs seemed to be working. I was moved back up into the bed, though slowly I was able to use my legs again like usual. I sighed in relief as I could sit up voluntarily without any pain. Whatever Nadir had given Christine to use on me, certainly did the trick.

I blinked my eyes open, expecting her to be lying beside me in bed as usual, only to realize she was completely gone!

"Christine!?" I called, but no one responded. I leapt to my feet, not caring that it hurt my legs to leave bed so early in my healing. I threw on a thick trench coat and a good pair of pants, before searching the house thoroughly.

It was empty.

Thoughts crossed my mind like a rocket. Had she done what I thought she would? Had she gone to marry Raoul? Then what would explain Meg and Antoinette not being in the house, either? Kidnapped! I knew it!

I scavenged for evidence. It was a blizzard outside on the streets...perhaps they were stranded around the block.

Knowing Christine would never leave her red scarf behind-which she had-I flung it around my neck, grabbing my mask and placing it back on. I forced the front door open. The wind was howling in my ears, but I didn't care.

"Christine!" I cried out into the blanketing, cold whiteness. I knew around this time of year, she would grieve for her father...perhaps she was at the graveyard and stuck in the cold there. I would rescue her...I had to!

"Christine!" I shouted again, trudging through the snow. My knees were growing numb, but it did not matter to me. Nothing mattered except her now. I didn't care...I kept going, all the way to the graveyard, to which I hurried to the site of where her father had been buried in a fairly large tombstone.

She wasn't even here! I collapsed on my knees weakly, before I cried her name one final time. I began to sob now...she was probably with Raoul. My family had abandoned me...

"Hello monsieur," a voice sneered from behind, "or should I say, the Phantom?"

I gasped, realizing the voice was-

.::.

**Christine**

I sat in the manager's office impatiently with Meg and Antoinette. By now it was a blizzard. I was certain Andre and Firman were talking quietly, trying to decide whether to rehire me or not...fearing that the Phantom would follow my every step.

Andre waltzed back into the room, though he seemed a bit foppish and intimidated.

"We have agreed to hire you-on contract you cannot resume your former title as Prima Donna, rather you may just be a chorus girl, backup dancer, or an understudy. do you agree to these?" he mused. I blinked, then nodded cheerily.

"Yes, I do. Thank you." I said with a sigh in relief. My job would start tomorrow. I was given some basic instruction about the Opera. Kindly, Firman offered us three ladies some of the old, unused coats from a distant opera from the past, to keep us warm in the thick snow, and two lanterns.

As we came out the entrance to the screeching wind...I knew it would be less flurrying in the graveyard, and today was the anniversary of his death.

"Madame, Meg! Go on ahead home!" I called, then paused for explanation, "I need to visit my father. I'll be there in an hour."

Madame Giry sent me a stare of confusion, then stated, "Alright. Christine, dear, please be careful!"

I pressed on, wrapping the shawl tightly around my waist and stomach to keep that area particularly warm. Nadir had given me advice on that particular issue. To keep cramps down, keep something warm until it's relaxed.

I made my way to the cemetery, only to hear screeches and yelling...just as I had at the old asylum. I turned the corner, only to scream myself in horror.

Erik was lying on the ground, some of his wounds reopened and spewing blood across the snow. What was he doing outside? He had probably gone looking for me. I should've left him a note!

But the person attacking him and yelling furious curses...

Was Raoul.

"Please don't hurt him, Raoul!" I cried, tears rolling down my cheeks. I rushed to the scene, only to have his blazing baby blue eyes turn on me, narrow, then he relaxed, now worry filling his eyes.

"I've come to rescue you, Christine! This foul beast has kept you captive for three whole months, do you think I haven't been worried about you!? Where the hell have you been, Lotte!?" he began to cry himself.

Erik moaned, head half buried in the snow as he trembled in pain and cold.

Without even answering Raoul's concerned questions, I flung myself on my knees beside Erik, lifting his face and wiping the blood off. He was wearing my scarf...which proved he had indeed been looking for me. He had been smart to come to the graveyard, but...he shouldn't have been out of bed.

"Christine, did you hear me!?" My hair was tugged immensely hard, which made me screech out in pain. Within seconds, Erik found strength in his fury and lunged, tacking Raoul to the ground and punching him across the face. I watched with horror as only more violence ensued. Erik was kicked, chest first, back into the snow, his whole face buried and suffocating as he was held in the frozen water.

"Raoul! I don't love you! Let it go!" We all froze, panting, as now he grew impatient with me, glaring me down.

"And why should I?" he painfully snarled, "Why should I let it go? This infernal demon probably has raped and beat you! You're having Stockholm syndrome, Christine, you don't love this monster! You think you love this evil kidnapper, but you don't! You love me!"

Somehow, there was pleading in his voice. My childhood friend was in serious pain.

"And he killed my brother. He killed Philippe. How can you trust him ever again?"

I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

"He didn't kill Philippe...and he didn't kill Ubaldo or Josef Buquet... Philippe was killed by Alberto Piangi in cold blood. Erik and I saw it happen. I rescued him from the old asylum where Philippe and Alberto were keeping him hostage... please Raoul, don't do this..." I responded as calmly as I could bear.

In disbelief, Raoul looked to Erik who was practically unmoving on the ground, hopelessly panting like a drying out fish, then to me, and finally drew out a dagger.

"You're wrong!" he screamed, raising his arm to plunge it into him. I took action, grabbing his wrist and trying to fight back.

"Don't! Please don't!" I sobbed, biting my lip as I prepared to reveal what I hadn't to any other.

"And why not!? The demon DESERVES to die!"

Erik rolled over onto his back, dizzily watching and uselessly trying to escape, but he was so weak, and his body so numb, he collapsed, eyes wide with horror and agony.

"I'm _pregnant_, Raoul! I'm pregnant with Erik's child...you wouldn't kill my child's father...would you? Are you that coldhearted?" I screeched, tearing the dagger out of his grasp and pointing it at him in defense. Raoul backed away slowly, in disgust.

"I can't believe that infernal demon's seed is growing in you," he growled repulsively, "It'll be ugly, just like him. I'll let you go this time...but he takes one step on holy grounds again and I'll strike him down and dead."

With that, Raoul stalked off. I dropped the dagger, cradling Erik in my arms, who was now crying again.

"Don't die, please don't die..." I whimpered. I began to whisper prayer that my father would save him from the events what just happened. It was official though...Erik could not be allowed to leave the house ever again, not until I can buy us our own home outside of France.

"Christine..." he whispered through cracked, split and bleeding lips, "We're going to have a _baby_?"

I forced myself to smile tearfully.

"Yes, mon ange, we're going to have a beautiful baby. I meant to tell you but I was scared you wouldn't want it." I murmured through chokes of tears.

He smiled dizzily and daintily.

"I'm going to be... a father..." And with that, he fainted, leaving me holding him, breaking into sobs. He could die here right now, but we were in no position to make it back home. I threw myself on top of his body, wrapping my coat around the both of us and wishing we would survive. My father's grave, feet away, I hoped he was watching and would save us. As the numbness made my teeth chatter, I drifted away into a frozen slumber.


	6. Chapter 6

**Christine**

I awoke to hearing footsteps in the snow, I looked beneath me, gently patting Erik's pale cheek.

"Erik, wake up," I murmured dizzily, "someone's coming."

He groaned, opening his eyes slightly, before I bent down and pressed a kiss to his lips, smiling.

"Hey. We need to get out of this graveyard..." I cooed. Confusion crossed his wounded gaze, and he trembled, taking in deep, ragged breaths.

"Why are we in a graveyard?" he replied in a low moan. When the footsteps grew louder, I looked up over my shoulder, seeing no one nearby.

"Help!" I called to this stranger in the blizzard.

"Please help my fiancee and I! He was jumped!"

Finally a face up surfaced, fighting against the rising winds. It was Nadir Khan!

He took my hand, helping me to my feet. I nodded in thanks.

"Alright. If you get one of his shoulders, I'll help him on his other. One...two...three!"

We hoisted the half-unconscious Erik up on our shoulders, and began to take him home, to safety.

.::.

As usual, dawn struck. Even after the events of yesterday, I still had work to get to. Hardworking boys were paid to pave the sidewalks and roads, so I had a safe steerage. In my nice boots, however, I had placed Erik's little switch blade, in case Raoul decided to attack me again.

Oddly enough, this morning, he awoke screaming and crying bloody murder about an "evil gypsy." I had gripped his shoulders and shook him awake. When he settled down, at first, frighteningly he did not recognize me right away. It took him several minutes before he was able to recall my name and our relation.

"Must've hit my head pretty hard," he groggily mumbled, scratching his forehead in concern. He then, as if not a care in the world, snuggled back into the covers, something the elusive Erik would've never done, and fell back asleep.

.::.

Hours passed. The Opera House still had not been reopened for snow, so I guess that for now, there was no work to be done.

I returned home, hanging my cloak upon the rack and searching the pantry hungrily for something to eat.

Before I could pull out tea biscuits, two arms wrapped around my waist, and beginning baby bump, which was caressed by delicate fingers.

I already knew who it was. Erik had gotten out of bed while Madame Giry were out and about to window shop, no doubt.

"Hello, beautiful," he purred in my ear, making me grin from ear to ear as I turned to face him, pressing kisses down his cheek to chin line. Erik seemed pleasant, considering the violent night and morning he had endured.

"And hello, handsome," I cooed, reaching to kiss his lips. Suddenly grief-stricken, he pulled back. Why did he pull back, and what was with the sudden mood-swing?

"Don't call me that, Christine. I'm a repulsive demon...it's even written on my stomach."

I shook my head, eyebrows furrowing, as I turned away and began pulling out the tea biscuits I craved, knowing it was no use arguing with him. He began to walk away, limping or stumbling every now and then, pausing to focus himself. I could tell Erik was upset with my reaction.

Looking back up from where I had been perched, now removing china from the vast white elm cabinets, I called to him.

"Erik darling, you are not repulsive, and certainly no demon. If you were, why would I be wearing a ring of your selection and a heavy stomach to prove it? Don't hurt yourself trying to walk."

"Christine," he, with a sagging heart, chuckled without real feeling, "you believe you think, but you are too quaint to understand your own words. Look at me!"

When I didn't look, rather concentrated on the tea biscuits I was orderly fashioning onto my plate, things took a scary turn...something I would never expect from Erik happened.

He lunged, grabbing my shoulders firmly, pressing me against the wall and throwing his mask off in rage. I gasped, trying to free myself to no prevail.

"I said, look at me Christine! I'm hideous, and that's why you don't love me...you come out of pity!" he screeched, amber eyes blazing.

"You're acting like Raoul! Please stop!" I sobbed hysterically. He let go, backing away slowly, before he looked at his hands shakily.

Tears began to drip out of his eyes, so blurry I was certain he no longer saw anything... Erik was lost in his own world.

When he slowly slumped to the couch and fell back onto it, mumbling deliriously to himself in self woe, that's when I put the tea biscuits down once and and for all, packing them away and watching him from a distance. The arguing had made me lose my appetite.

"Erik?" I whispered, creeping my way close to him. When he did not respond, I lay down beside him, curling my head against his chest and snuggling my way into his arms. He did not protest, or seem to falter, rather accepted my embrace, still mumbling the same phrase over and over again...

_"I have tainted beauty. I am a monster..."_

.::.

Erik's feverish chills returned that night, and once more was he plagued with horrible nightmares.

"N-No! NO! Please don't...I don't want it anymore, master Javert!" He flailed in bed beside me, crying and sobbing unconsciously, until I grabbed him firmly and shook him, panicking as I did not know any other way to make him stop.

"Leave me alone!" Erik cried, fighting against me until he registered it was me.

"Erik...you were having more nightmares...it's okay, I'm right here, mon ange..." I cooed. Erik burst into childlike sobs as I cradled him in my arms this time...it was my turn to soothe his fears. Every night, he reverted into this demented, tormented presence, and I wondered if the night I rescued him three months ago...that Madame Giry had not told me about a side effect of the medicine she gave him.

I knew now in order to keep him from having nightmares...there was only one option and one option alone. I hated to do this to my beloved, but if the baby were to live in such an environment, it would be a disaster.

I would have to sedate Erik.

Instead of a syringe-I went through the medicine cabinet for dissolvable tablets as a better solution. I stirred it in a glass of warm milk. He wouldn't taste a thing, only a bit of sweetening, and by the time he figured out what was in the milk, he'd be out cold.

Besides, a peacefully sleeping Erik tonight was better than a sobbing, delusional one.

When I returned, Erik was rocking back and forth unusually, shuddering with his knees tucked to his chest.

"I brought you milk to calm your nerves. Please drink it, you'll feel better." I insisted. At first, he shook his head rapidly.

"It's only seven hours until sunrise..." he cried, "And Master Javert will return and do horrible, monstrous things to me!"

"Erik!" I snapped, slapping him, "Snap out of it! You're with the Giry's and me! Not in a gypsy caravan! How many times must I tell you? Drink your milk."

Reluctantly, and shrunken back, Erik cupped his hands, slurping it down thirstily, before he raised his eyebrows, setting the cup down and licking the last drop from the milk.

"What's the matter?" I murmured.

"That's odd. Never had milk that sweet..."

He paused, eyes popping out of his skull, before he started beating his fists against his stomach. Before he could object, I clamped my hands over his nose and mouth, forcing him to swallow it down.

Right before he passed out, he growled, "Damn you! Damn you to hell, Christine!" His flimsy claws that he had been beating against his stomach unraveled, his orbs of yellow fluttering shut, and this air of sudden peace surrounded me. I closed my eyes, yawning, before drifting back into a sleep that I prayed would be peaceful like this forevermore.

.::.

**A/N: Very sorry about the late update-but I hoped you liked it ^.^**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: only a few more chapters until the baby is born, and then the story will change tides. What do think it will be? Gustave or a girl? You'll just have to see ;)**

.::.

**Christine**

Madame Giry was in a mad hurry to fetch Nadir in the morning as soon as I described to her the night before. On the way out, I stopped her.

"Madame, what's wrong with him? No more secrets!" I cried, grabbing her elbow crook desperately. She turned to me in saddened stupor, glancing down to her feet, before she shut the door, stepping back into the warm retreat of the house.

"Alright, Christine...I'll tell you. He's going to be very angry with us when he awakens...please tell me you didn't give him any pain meds!?"

I bit my lip nervously.

"I...I did...I gave him sleeping drugs when he kept thrashing. He acted like he couldn't recognize me." I admitted

Madame Giry's eyes popped out of her skull, before she led me to the living room, sitting me down and handing me a small journal. A page was marked by her finest bookmark...I could recognize its wear and tear as belonging to Erik.

Why did she have Erik's journal? I could only assume she found it within his shirt or hidden in his clothes, for I knew before that faithful night in the asylum, Meg said she and her mother found no artifacts of his in the fire that burned the world he had built.

"All the answers are in that entry," Madame Giry stammered, "that night...he begged me to help you when he undergoes this phase in his injury."

Without another word, I flipped to the page.

_Entry 10 - Woodrow's Asylum, September 2_

_"Clever" idiots...hah. Think I have no possessions on me, no link to the outside world. I have you, my precious pocket book. Christine promised if I were to die, she would bury me, so of course, she would forage for anything left of me, and she will receive this._

_Antoinette, if you happen to scavenge my mutilated corpse and find this, give it to Christine. I beg it of you...when I die, my writings belong to her as will my heart._

_I've been poisoned. At this rate, I know it is not fatal lest I am forced to consume more of that foul stench liquid. I will write the side effects here...I ripped the label off into my fist somehow in between my daily beating. They smashed it against my chest but out of the fistfuls of glass I picked from my fingertips, I found it!_

_Side effects:_

_-Nausea -Drop or increase in body temperature -Fainting -Aggression -Temporary state of no memory (ranging from a week to a month, depending on quantity consumed) -Death_

_Already I feel dreadfully nauseous...It is probably not for the good of my health to be up and about...or in an asylum. I was once an angel for my beloved Christine...where's the angel for me?_

_To hell with me! A brainless toast, to good fortune of everyone except myself..._

_Erik Mulheim_

I read back over the side effects, feeling nauseous myself. I would never forgive Alberto Piangi for poisoning my precious Erik. I counted which side effects he had gone through, then painfully nodded to Madame Giry.

Through clenched, bitter and vengeful teeth, I growled, "Get Nadir, before I utterly destroy the Opera House myself."

Not long after she was gone, I heard an enraged yelp of pain and fury erupt from upstairs. I braced myself, forcing myself to think, It's not the same Erik. It's not the same Erik.

In my heart, I knew there was more to it than poison, something much more horrible occurred, for the next page in his journal wasn't the day after, it was a whole week.

He stumbled down the stairs, blearily as if in a drunken, wounded stupor, before his eyes locked on me. Clenching his jaw, he growled, "How could you, Christine!? How could you? First you DRUG me, and then go through my personal space to read my journal!?"

With a howl of pain, he clutched his shoulders, tears streaming down his face. I wanted to help him, but would he attack me if I did so?

"Erik," I as calmly as possible said, "I am trying to help you. Sit down and take deep breaths. Madame Giry is coming with Nadir."

With a grimace, he collapsed on the couch, his head resting in my lap as he sobbed and sobbed. I ran my hand through his grey wisps, murmuring to him that everything would be alright.

Suddenly, after minutes, he screamed, clutching his head and startling the living light out of me.

I shook him from what I presumed had been a nightmare, as he bent on his knees, still screaming.

"It's only a bad dream! I'm right here! Erik!?" I yelled over his seemingly usual tantrum. Instead, he clawed at his forehead, now lying like a dying fish on the floor. When I made contact with his gaze, he winced and screamed again, and this time I felt weak for not being able to stop it.

"My head! I can't...no!" Erik cried, bursting into sobs as he struggled more, this time leaping to his feet and bumping into random furniture.

Instinctively, I grabbed his shoulder, only to be hurled back into something made of glass...the door to the cabinet.

In his blind rage, he still did not see me stumble, glancing at the crystalline shards of pretty colors swirling around my fingers... I watched Erik vanish from visionline, all this blackness surrounding me. My bloodied hands coiled around my stomach, my last notion of reality before I fainted and collapsed to the ground.

.::.

I awoke to the sounds of uneasy breaths. I looked up slowly, blinking a few times, before I focused on Meg picking small fragments from my fingertips with little tweezers.

"Meg..." I groaned. Her face brightened, and she smiled sweetly.

"Christine! Isn't it ever so good to see you awake? Hey, I talked to the managers while you are out, you're going to be paid for the performances next week." she squeaked.

I tipped my head in inquiry and puzzlement.

"And why would I not get paid?" I responded, she bit her lip.

"It would harm the baby to perform...Christine...you aren't three months pregnant. Now tell me, the time in before after you left Erik there in the opera house, before even Raoul left to rescue you, _what_ did you two do?"

I gulped. I didn't want such bittersweet memories to arise, but I knew it would.

"It was three and a half months before you rescued him from the asylum. You were just unaware, I presume, Christine, but you are seven months along. Unless it's Raoul's?"

I yanked my hands away from her grip and held them to my swollen stomach, tears filling my eyes.

"I would never sleep with Raoul, ever. Meg, how could you think that?" I burst into unkempt sobs, to which she hushed by gently coaxing me to a sitting position, helping me eat what I could.

I had already been pregnant? I knew what Erik and I had done was wrong...he intended to force it upon me that very night of Faust, but with the goodness of his heart, he had changed his mind, and with his courage that touched me dearly, I granted him his wish.

Meg shook her head sadly, then began to walk away, before I grabbed her arm.

"Where's Erik!?" I asked in utter concern.

"Maman and Monsieur Khan are tending to him now. After he realized that he'd hurt you, he tried to take his life," Meg hesitantly responded.

"Oh my god! Not my poor, poor Erik..."

"TRIED, Christine! TRIED! I came home before Maman and stopped him. When he realized his wrists were drenched with blood, the sight of it made him faint. When he woke up, we had healed his wrists, but..."

She trailed off. I locked my jaw. How dare she keep my fiancee's condition from me!

"I thought better of you Meg. Erik and I are engaged! Let me guess...he's lost his memory."

With a slight nod, she left the room, leaving so many unanswered questions.


	8. Chapter 8

**Erik**

I looked to my left, to my right.

_Where was I?_ Everything felt so dreary and odd...the world around around me like a technicolor explosion exposed to a newborn babe.

I attempted to lift my hand to rub my brow, only to find I couldn't feel it through the thick bandaging. Was this a hospital? Mother told me all the time that hospitals were someplace I could never go because of my face.

I closed my eyelids slightly before I realized a strange, copper skinned man and a pale little lady were standing over me, speaking some sort of gibberish I barely recognized. I shied away in a timid fashion, terrified of these strangers.

"Erik?" The man asked calmly.

My eyes lit to fury for a moment, considering strangling this stalkerish and shady figure, but anguish and childlike terror struck me.

"Where am I? Where's mother? Who are you!?" I whimpered in response.

Horrified, the woman walked out of the room hurriedly. The man nodded and locked the door behind us. I could see a filled syringe in his hand...what was the strange clear liquid in the needle? I didn't want to find out.

My eyes popped as he approached rapidly, pinning me down with one strong shove. I thrashed and thrashed, so confused and so afraid.

"I'm sorry Erik, it's for your own good you take a little nap," he said, and I sensed pain and regret as it entered my shoulder. I let out a long gasp as a warm sensation spread throughout my body...

I moaned deliriously, confused by this odd feeling, until my eyes grew too heavy and I laid back down in relaxation. The last thing I would remember were the sheets pulled up to my neck, and at last I fell asleep.

.::.

**Christine**

Hours passed, until I felt the strength to get up and go see Erik for myself. However, when I tried the door, it was locked. I struggled with it, spitting curses, until I was yanked away by Nadir, who would've flung me against the wall in fury had I not been pregnant.

"You can't go in there, Miss Daae!" he snapped furiously, glaring me down. I had never seen him so protective of my angel before.

"And why not?" I stubbornly crossed my arms, pouting my lower lip out in temperamental frustration.

For once, wise Nadir crossed his arms, shaking his head sadly, and thought for a moment. He parted his lips to speak, but couldn't find words to describe his emotion clearly.

"He won't remember you..Christine, he doesn't recognize any of us. I thought he'd at least remember _me_...but he has reverted to the mindset of his childhood. Why? I'm not sure, but if someone approaches him he cries and nothing will stop him. For now, we can avoid him until his month of this phase is up, and then hopefully when the newborn comes along he'll be aware and at his senses."

I could only hope Nadir was right, but by the time the month arrived...it wasn't all we had hoped for.

.::.

**A/N: Two more chapters until the baby! :) I am so excited with the upcoming plot twists...*winkwink***

**So sorry for the short chapters...this one and the next one are short, but the upcoming chapters I PROMISE...will be lengthy.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Christine**

No longer was I allowed even to leave the house...my stomach was swollen up like a watermelon with this child...

By now, I was scared my baby would never have a father. In fact, even in a month, I haven't talked to Erik, and it worries me.

Today, Madame Giry and Meg both had work. They were saving money for all five of us-counting my child-to escape to America and get a better life there.

When I saw Erik arise this morning, he trudged gloomily downstairs. When he saw me, he rolled his eyes and walked past me, almost setting me off.

"And who knocked you up?" he growled sarcastically. I crossed my arms, glaring at him, before throwing the nearest object-a book-at him and nailed him in the back. He brushed off the injury like it was nothing, though he seemed agitated.

"You, Erik! You knocked me up!" I screeched back. The corners of his lips wilted, and this scarily serious expression crossed his face. For once, I had never been more terrified of him, as he raised his hand to smack me.

Instinctively, I flung my arms around my stomach. For a long while, we stared at each other dumbfounded, before he settled into his arm chair, burying his forehead in his palms.

"Still, you don't remember me? Nothing at all!?" I continued. He shook his head again, though it wasn't in a "no."

"...I know you're someone who's hurt me, and that I've hurt you even more." he murmured.

Without another doubt in my mind, and convinced he needed a push to get his memory back, I bent towards him, making sure we had full eye contact, before I ripped his mask from his face and forced him to kiss me.

He flailed for a moment, stunned by my gesture, before rage like no other filled his emotions.

He shoved me aside. Erik huffed, blazing with anger.

"How dare you!" he screamed so loudly I trembled with fear. I didn't hesitate to run to the door and away from the hurt and pain... I had tried so hard for our approaching child to have a father and failed.

My coat swung onto my body, I sealed it tight for warmth, then grabbed my red scarf. Maybe I could make it to Nadir's for help!

I ran back into the blizzard. I had expected for the last few months of fall into winter that the snow would die down...it only grew worse in a swift forceful pull of nature.

"Nadir! Please open up!" I cried, banging on the door. No one was inside.

I was alone now. I was lone, contracting pains rippling through my body, I heaved my way, trying to go back home. I was sure Erik was worried sick. Why did I run from him like a intimidated mouse?

As I grew heavy with exhaustion, I finally stopped in an alley, the burning pains I had been having all day were weighing me down. My gloved hands dug into the snow, making myself a comfortable sitting position. I was freezing cold, and beginning to realize how dumb it was of me to run from Erik when he probably needed me most.

Here I was again, being too timid and stubborn. I breathed heavily, to keep me warm, and when the time came, with one final push, I took off my scarf and tiredly swaddled the youthful bundle and placed it carefully in my coat to feed.

A girl...it was a girl. A beautiful baby girl. I was lost in the snow, and if I were destined to die, I would protect the child with my last breath.

It had only been a few hours before I heard footsteps. I knew what was coming for me.

Clearing the snow a bit more, I unraveled my coat and placed the baby inside. Someone would find her and take her to Erik...and knowing the newcomer would kill my child without my hiding of her, I followed him willingly and painfully.

Only in one brief day, I had everything and nothing...and yet, I knew I was going to die.

.::.

**Erik**

Realization hit me like a rock as soon as Christine fled from me once more. I did not run after her...I knew she wouldn't go far.

She was coming back, right? An hour had passed. I drummed my fingernails against the table, anxiety hitting in.

Two hours. Nadir must have been tending to her. We all knew inside today was the day the baby would be born...but because of my foolishness, my grant to be at her side while it arrived, was stolen.

Three hours. Nobody was home yet, the snow was so thick I could not see outside. After a stolen glance at our shipyard tickets for midnight...I was worried sick now.

I ran upstairs practically, grabbing a leather jacket and some thicker boots. I hurried through the streets of Paris, searching for a sign.

"Christine? Please come out now! I'm sorry!" I called nervously. No response from anywhere...

"Christine!? I'm sorry I was angry...please come out!" Nothing.

I stole down the main road to Nadir's. No one would be out by now. Even Nadir couldn't have gone inside...

Foolish, foolish me! Why, whenever I try to say something, words don't come out right, or I get angry and those I care the most for flee from my grasp? I sincerely meant no harm...

"Christine," I was now begging, "It's too cold for you out here! Please come home!"

Instead of her response, I began to hear a cry, just above a low murmur, from the alley just in brief seconds. It was more like, wailing from a very young child. I paused. Had the baby come, weeks early?

I trudged on, wrapping my coat tightly around my waste. I could see Christine's coat! And her scarf sticking out of it! But where was Christine?

I bent down, examining the rolled up articles of clothing. There was no sign of any life...

Until it wriggled and cried again. I bounced back, startled by this high pitched crying sound. I unwrapped the coat, to find indeed yes, Christine's baby. I stilled.

This was _my_ child...Christine had abandoned it. She had _abandoned_ it, and I couldn't believe it. Why would she? It was so perfect, flawless, and beautiful. With careful, delicate hands, I scooped the child, whom had been swaddled in Christine's red scarf, and carefully held her in my arms.

She cried for a moment from the bitter cold, and I gently shushed her, scooping up Christine's coat and layering some warmth for the baby. I looked onward again, hoping to catch a glimpse of my late lover, but she was gone. I had a new responsibility, and both our cruel actions paid the price.

"Cordelia Christine Mulheim," I whispered, sealing the name for the child. It squirmed a moment, looking at me with large, round eyes, before drifting into a peaceful slumber while I forced my legs to take us home. I considered giving up now. I knew nothing about raising children! Christine would've been a natural mother for our little Cordelia, but alas, she wasn't here. She missed out instead of waiting for help. And I right then promised...I promised Cordelia, I would protect her, because she was the only piece of Christine I had.

.::.

**A/N: I decided on a baby girl instead of a boy, sorry :3**

**Who do you think the mysterious "newcomer" was? ;) You'll find out next chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Erik**

**Seven years later; America**

"Cordelia, sweetheart, please don't run so fast!" I called after her in exhaustion. She stopped, giggling several yards away from me, and crossed her arms.

"Then _Daddy_, you need to catch up! Aunt Meg said I can have ice cream when I get home!" Cordelia complained in amusement, grinning cheekily until I caught up. As soon as we paused by a bench, her muscles tensed to bolt the remaining way, but quickly, I snatched her up.

"Oh no you don't!" I teased gleefully. She kicked and giggled, the same way Christine would've had she still been here. In fact, I already could presume where she was. With the Vicomte, merrily going about her way because she chose beauty over art.

"Daddy, why do you look so sad?"

Cordelia was staring at me with her round green eyes, head cocked slightly, before I forced a sad smile on my face.

"Nothing, Cordelia. I was just thinking about things," I lied. She slipped her little hand into mine as we began to walk the final two blocks home.

It would've been a usual pleasant stroll through my park, Phantasma, except, every few times we passed a complete family, Cordelia would stare wistfully at them in an entrancing way. I knee exactly what she was thinking of, what she was missing. I didn't decide to approach the concern until we arrived home. Meg was probably still at rehearsals, and Madame Giry overlooking the progress of the new show.

I pulled my daughter aside, sitting her on the couch. She was old enough to be talked to...seven was a good age for her to begin understanding things about life.

Before I could begin talking, she cleared her throat to speak.

"Where is my mommy? Why isn't she here too?" Then what she asked next choked me up.

"Doesn't she love me?"

I let my teary-eyed child sit on my lap as I hugged her gently.

"Cordelia, your mother loved you very much. When she gave birth to you, it was too cold, and she was dying. I looked everywhere for her in the snow, but I only found you." I tried to make it sound as understandable as possible.

"Then why was she in the snow, instead of inside and warm?" Cordelia persisted.

"She and I were having problems and yelled at each other. I hurt her feelings, so she ran off. I searched the snow for hours, calling to her, but she was too afraid to respond. So when she had you, she made sure that you were warm in her scarf and coat and crawled away to become an angel." I concluded.

Cordelia snuggled her brown curls into my chest, though I could tell she was not satisfied with my explanation, nor would she ever be.

I decided to catch some air. A nightly stroll would do me some good.

.::.

**Christine**

**Seven years later; America**

I placed my red wig in place, getting my short frilly skirt and leggings up onto my body, and an appealing top on, it was time to work.

Years ago, I bitterly thought, years ago, I had ripped away my chances at a happy ending when Raoul stumbled upon me. I had seen him approaching from afar, he had known that at some point I would flee Erik and he'd take me as his.

I only stayed a few weeks with him. By the time I escaped, the Giry's place was empty. Nadir's shop was empty. I knew Erik had found our baby and she was in good hands...as for me, I had become strange mens' playthings.

I worked at a sleazy nightclub and bar, as a waitress who served drinks to customers and those wanting to pay for my extras.

I sighed, walking home after my shift was done, only to hear dead silence. Even at night, Coney Island wasn't that quiet. Then suddenly...

"I didn't get what I paid for, wench!" A man leaped out, shoving me against a nearby brick wall and beginning to beat me senselessly. I didn't even recognize his face, but when I saw more men approaching, dear lord, this was a gang attack for certain. With all of my strength, I screamed.

Then out of nowhere, I heard a sharp voice, "Hey! Get your hands off of her!"

Everyone stopped, unhanding me and standing side by side.

"M-mister Y! We're sorry, sir, we were just-" one of the buffoons stammered. I stood there, paralyzed by fear, overlooking this mysterious Mister Y. I had heard of a Mister Y. Before, he had been the mastermind behind Phantasma.

Scarily enough, although he wore a black mask with gold trim, he looked like a worn-out version of Erik. He had stress lines of wrinkles along his forehead as he scowled, but the facial shape was about the same.

"Doing what? Taking advantage of this poor lady? I should fire all of you! Now, leave the scene before I have security discard you from the face of the earth." he growled. The men quivered with fear before bolting, leaving me face to face with this man.

"I'm s-sorry sir," I stammered, "I didn't mean to a-arouse attention."

He shook his head, helping me to my feet, before cocking his eyebrows up.

"That's quite alright. Are you okay?" he asked in concern. Before I could respond with a yes, his fingertips traced a bruise on my cheek.

"Why should such a pretty lady have to work at a night club? Come, I shall have my dear friend tend to your wounds-and you are?"

"Blaze Wish," I responded. I chose to use my hooker name instead of my real name, for if I was right and this was Erik, he would be furious as to my seven year disappearance. No, beyond furious, he would be! He would spit out his fury...and I didn't want to be there for that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Christine**

Meg had been sent to clean me up as soon as I had been introduced to the household, and of course when my back was turned, she had snatched off my wig, gasping in horror.

"It's not what it looks like, I swear!" I exasperated. She struggled to run past me to the door, but I reached it first, pressing against it and locking it.

"How could you, Christine!?" Meg began to cry, and I pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry Meg. I didn't want you all to suffer...Raoul would've killed my baby." I whimpered. Meg pushed back, looking me in the eye with sudden empathy.

"Well. I missed you so much. Don't ever leave us again. We should tell Erik-"

"No!" I interrupted, before clearing my throat.

"I can't tell Erik. I can't break his heart again, knowing I'm alive. I'll stay however long he wants me here as Blaze Wish, and then leave...Meg, please answer me honestly. Where is my daughter?"

She shook her head tearily.

"She's here, with us. Erik has tried so very hard to be a good father to her, but she cries and cries because she doesn't have you in her life. That's why you need to tell him." Meg continued.

"So she's alive?" I stubbornly persisted.

"Yes, she's alive and well. Erik named her Cordelia Christine Mulheim. She's a darling little gem, but we're tired of lying to her and telling her that you're dead. So please, come home."

My heart skipped a wavered beat in my chest, so painful I couldn't bear it. Erik named her after me! My daughter was alive and well...he had found her in time.

"I so do want to come home, but how do you think Erik will react to my line of work?" I explained. The lightbulb in Meg's head must've burned out, for her head drooped.

"He'd be furious, now wouldn't he?" she mumbled.

She finished cleaning me up, then helped me place my wig back on. Warily, we headed back upstairs, where Erik had been waiting.

He took my arm in his, smiling again, before we were lead into the dining room for a late dinner.

Cordelia was there, sitting at the table tiredly, but she perked up at the sight of her father and I.

"Hello Miss Blaze! Papa said you're staying with us for a while!" she squeaked. My heart sank. She would never call me Mum, because she would never see me as her mother, only as who knows how many women Erik has invited in the past.

"And hello to you, little mademoiselle." I replied. After we ate, I felt like an outcast as Erik showed me to my room.

"Sir-" I stammered as he turned to leave down the hall.

"Yes?" Erik turned and stared at me with his catlike orbs of eyes.

I gestured for him to come inside, before I spoke.

"If you wish for me to stay...I will only stay for one more day, then the morning after, I will leave." I said calmly. He nodded, then smiled this sad, weary smile.

"Y'know, this seems like an odd coincidence, so don't get me wrong," he observed, seemingly oblivious to the last few words I had spoken. "Your eyes, they're just like Christine's. Beautiful. Well, have a good night's rest, Miss Blaze"

I bit my cheek on the inside. Had he caught on to me? I tensed.

"Goodnight, monsieur," I hastily replied, quietly shutting the door.

Sleep? How could I sleep? I knew dreadfully in my heart, the truth would come out. If he starts to notice too many similarities, he will catch my lies, and I will hurt him worse than he deserves.

He had begged of me to be his Angel of Music. I had deserted him, and now I was a plaything for drunkard customers. My dreams shattered, my life torn about. Years ago, I fretted that had I chosen Erik, he wouldn't be able to support us because of his face, and here he was, a wealthy business man with a large estate, acres of land, and a whole park to run. Where was I the last seven years?

I had been Raoul's mistress by force, attacked, beaten, until I had run away...only to be captured and used by another rich man, who solicited me without ever gaining consent, and sold me to other men...

Monsieur Maynard had been a cruel, cruel man. His wealth came from his quote-on-quote "workers", of course who were once vainly beautiful women he enslaved and kept in his home.

I had slept in a small room with only a bed and a little locker for the few personal things I had. I could roam around the mansion if I wanted to, but if I denied a customer my services, I was chained to the bed and held there until they were done.

My life had been perfect beforehand. I didn't even remember how I had fallen so low-I had fallen into hell. How had I even escaped Monsieur Maynard after six years only to be doing the exact same line of labor I had been before?

I laid myself across the bed, imagining Erik hugging me until I fell asleep, but all that came to mind was everyone who ever abused me, who kept me hostage from the ones I loved.

Salty tears spread down to my chin, dribbling onto my neck. I held my tongue though, in fear of waking someone. I knew tonight I would be plagued with nightmares again. I did every night, and somehow in the end I always hurt everyone with my indecisive and timid nature.

.::.

"Christine, wake up!"

Meg shook me awake, and she seemed worried. I blinked my eyes open at the creases, yawning. It had to be noon...had I really slept so late?

"What? And keep it down, Erik might hear," I moaned

"Please take Cordelia around town...I placed a dress for you on your nightstand. I have to go to work, Erik and Maman work all day too. I told Erik you could be trusted with her...pretty please?"

Meg's eyes grew big and pleading. My eyes only filled with horror.

"I can't...Meg, take her to work with you or send for a nanny...I can't..." I cried.

Suddenly, Meg grew stronger than I ever saw her, contempt blazed within her as she grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

"She's your daughter! If you are leaving tomorrow as Erik said, this is your last chance at ever spending time with her! Look, here's a coin purse, get her something nice, buy her dinner, bond with her. I'm not taking no for an answer, Christine."

With that, Meg stormed off, leaving the purple sachet on the little nightstand. I gasped when I picked up the dress...Erik had saved it...

It was my dress from opening night of Faust. Pink, frilly, and as new as ever. I breathed in its scent, it still smelled like my dressing room.

After tying a corset upon myself delicately, I slipped it on, before adjusting my wig. I hoped Erik would not recognize me, should I run into him.

Cordelia brightened when she saw me approach, purse around my shoulder. The coins jingled as I stood in the doorway.

"Shall we begin? I heard you know all around the park," I said with a grin.

She grinned back, taking her small hand in mine, before she began to in a bubbly fashion, leap to the door.

.::.

I had learned plenty about Cordelia already. I had bonded to a friendship with my daughter quickly, that I was pleased with my own progress.

Dinner menus placed down, she had already decided what to order. Then, the tragedy struck her.

A mother and her own daughter sat to our right at another table. Anguish crossed Cordelia's face. She must've noticed I saw, because she tried to hide it and look down at her menu with red eyes on the verge of tears.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" I said as quietly as ever. She looked up gloomily, as if in fret, before out of the pocket of her coat, she pulled out a picture and put it in my hands.

It was a picture of me...this I knew. I was in my Faust outfit, the same I wore now.

I pouted slightly. Erik had given her this, no doubt, maybe even when she was little.

"You see the dress you wear? That was my Mommy's. Daddy says she loves me from heaven. I asked him if he misses her but he tries to hide that he's really sad." she murmured dully.

Overcome with grief myself, I sat the picture down in front of her, locking gaze with her.

"I think I knew your mother, very well in fact. I know she's alive," I said, about to cry myself. Cordelia stared at me, leaning in.

"You do? Where is she?" Now she was interested, but she sounded curious and desperate.

"I know she's very close, and she loves you very much, and wants to be part of your life," I sniffled.

Tears boiled in Cordelia's eyes, and suddenly she said, "Can we please go outside? I'm no longer hungry."

"Me neither..." I mumbled emotionlessly.

We walked down the dark streets together for a long time, cold by the winter frost beginning to settle. It was a winter like this, that I had found Erik again, seven years ago.

"Can you sit down, on the bench over here for me?" Cordelia asked out of the blue. I looked around. It was too dark for people to be around...if Cordelia was asking what I thought she was, she had wanted us to be alone.

I nodded, taking a seat. I felt tenseness through the air as my young daughter touched her hands to her chestnut curls for a second, before fishing into her pocket and retrieving the photo again.

For a few moments, all was silent as she held it up to look at both it and I. She seemed observed, before she began to speak again.

"You don't have to lie to all of us. Aunt Meg chose that dress for you to wear because she knew I had this photograph of Mommy. Take off your wig." For a seven year old, she sounded very mature as she stood there, so close that I could hear her soft breaths.

Hesitantly, I weaved my fingers into the red hair before I reached the hairnet. Pulling both items off, I was afraid as I stuffed them in my purse, before facing the child I had so yearned to know for seven whole years.

For a long time, we were completely silent again, the hushed yet howling wind the only noise in our ears.

Then, Cordelia, my daughter, my child, collapsed in my arms, hugging me so tight I couldn't help but begin to sob with her.

"I wanted to terribly to come home," I tearily cried, unable to bear it any longer, "because I love you and your father so much...s-so much...I'm so sorry, Cordelia..."

She squeezed tighter around my waist, burying her head against my chest.

"I just wanted my Mommy...I wanted Daddy not to be sad anymore...you need to come home, please, for me?" Cordelia choked.

"I promise. I promise I'll come home..."

Our warm reunion would not last forever, for I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up, alarm striking me. It was the men from before! They had come back...

"Cordelia, run home!" I shouted, jolting up and pushing her away.

"B-but, Mommy-" she began, but when she saw the men coming, fear shot through her.

"Run home! Get help!" I yelled. She didn't hesitate, getting a head start. Before I could even scream, the back of a knife smashed against my head, and the last thing I remembered was dizzily watching Cordelia run for dear life...


	12. Chapter 12

**Erik**

I was at the kitchen counter, rapping my fingers against the marble. Anxiety was settling in. Blaze and Cordelia were out later than I thought they would.

Shivers ran down my spine as I tried to reasonably conjure up some appeasing story as to why they were late. It was a longer walk home from downtown, but Cordelia was a smart child and would know to come home...

I heard furious footsteps pounding throughout the house, until Cordelia suddenly came, ramming into me and sobbing onto my hip. I flinched, confused at this behavior.

"Cordelia, why are you home late? Where's Miss Blaze?" I sternly asked. Wiping away tears and shaking, she handed me a familiar purple purse. I opened it up, finding a lot of things I didn't expect.

Miss Blaze Wish's wig was inside, meaning she'd willingly taken it off for Cordelia. My eyes popped wider as I found a birth certificate...no...

"Oh my god..." I said, reading every word. It couldn't be...Raoul, the stupid Vicomte, had said himself she was dead!

"Mommy was taking me home, she promised she would come home...and there were all these men with knives..." she stammered.

The birth certificate had read Christine Daae.

"Where? Where were you two last?" I questioned, trembling with grief.

"The alley branching off 25th street."

I bolted, throwing my coat over my arms. Last time I had lost her for good...maybe there was still a chance to save her...

In the freezing cold, every teardrop burned as it ran down my face. So many questions had run through my mind...why had she lied? On horseback, I hoped to make it faster...and every man who touched her would have their throats slit and their bodies trampled to dust.

I made it to 25th. Slowing to a trot, I reared the horse into the alley, hopping down and patting her muzzle.

I bent down beside what must be Christine...

But she didn't look the same.

It was clear someone had cut her long, beautiful hair shoulder length. She was panting, her eyes wide open, but I didn't think she could see me. One of her arms, oh dear lord, had words carved into it and bleeding profusely.

"Deceiving Whore," it said. I shook my head sadly, and shook her shoulder gently.

"Christine? Are you in there?" I whispered. She moaned, doing what appeared to be a nod. I scooped her up in my arms, placing her in front of me on my horse, before I hopped on. I rested her head against my chest, hoping she could hear my heartbeat, and know she was safe.

Except, she wasn't safe, because I knew those men would come back to hurt, maybe even kill, her. But for the meantime, I prayed all would be alright.

.::.

Nadir was in the bedroom for hours. Outside, I paced back and forth.

"Her arm isn't only cut, it's broken in one clean break. It might take a while. Be patient." Nadir had said. Patient...

Patience...

I sat down, burying my face in the palms of my hands. I wasn't sure what to do now at all. I sent Cordelia to bed early, telling her in a lie that I was sure her mother would be alright...

But inside, I was tormented with fury and grief...Christine had told my own daughter, who had never met her, but could not bring the strength to tell me, her lover, that she was alive?

Years, years of toil and grief, wallows in self-pity...trying so hard to be both father and mother for little Cordelia because Christine had chosen to abandon the perfect little girl, and now she wanted to come home? How dare she...how dare she inflict this kind of grief upon me?

Nadir opened the door.

"Erik, she's starting to wake up. Just make sure she doesn't hurt herself if she tries to take off the cast...stop her before she can do so." Nadir calmly remarked. I nodded to him thankfully, before entering the room. I shut the door behind me. I wanted to be alone.

I looked around the wide room. There was a wave of peace, but gloom in the air.

Taking a seat at her bedside, I took her free hand in mine, clasping her in my grasp. Relief spun over me when I felt her fingers entwine with mine.

Christine turned her fragile head, her eyes hollow and exhausted from years of how much neglect she had endured. She watched me with no doubt fear, and I tensed as she cracked her pale, swollen lips open.

"Erik?" she moaned in exhaustion. I couldn't even smile. It made me feel conceited on the inside, being reunited with the one I loved most but unable to show any affection.

"Yes, I'm here," I replied, taking my gaze away from her to stare at the draped curtains.

"Erik...I'm sorry...I didn't want...to leave..." Christine weakly cried. I could feel her trying to sit up, but I quickly pushed her back down.

"You aren't moving from the spot until you are healed up, so don't try that either." I said stubbornly with a huff.

"I said, I'm sorry." With defiance, she pulled her hand away from mine, to wipe away her tears.

Oh, how this woman irritated and toiled with my feelings! In sheer ignorance and rage of the moment, I asked probably the stupidest, emotionally damaging question in my life.

"You dare apologize...Christine, tell me right now. How many men have you taken to bed with as Blaze Wish?"

Suddenly, she trembled and bellowed out a heartbreaking sob. I bit my tongue. Why did I have to say that? God, I had made the predicament worse. Once more I buried my face in the palms of my hands, elbows sinking into my knees.

"I d-didn't want it...I didn't want them! I didn't want Raoul, I didn't want Monsieur Maynard, I didn't want the gang tonight...I didn't want to live chained in a little bedroom that men would come to pay for my services...how could you suggest I willingly went into this life? I was dragged, kicking and screaming for someone to save me! But nobody came, because I screwed up!" she screeched at me.

"And I didn't have it hard?" I retaliated, losing all common sense, "I had to raise Cordelia as both a mother and a father...I had to tug her along the streets as she stopped to stare at every happy, complete family there was, and tend to her while she weeped because she didn't want me, she wanted a mother! And to support her, I worked in a sideshow for five years before I even had the money to build Phantasma!"

Once more, Christine tried to sit up, and before I could stop her, she let out a feverish moan and fell back onto the bed.

Gaining back the little sanity and feeling I could muster, I drew my fingertips across her forehead. She was freezing cold to the touch, even though she had been covered up in nice, thick blankets.

"Christine, you're cold," I bluntly stated.

"I don't want your help, I don't want your pity..." she cried through chattering teeth. She flinched when I felt her forehead again with tenderness in my approach.

"You wouldn't be acting this way if you weren't sick. You choose to come back? I'm going to help you whether you agree or not, because if I throw you out on the street, stupid girl, you're going to get yourself mutilated into tiny bits by those gang members!" I growled in response.

My mind trailed back to that unforgettable night when Christine had rescued me from that terrible asylum I had been hostage in. How she took care of me when I was ill, and I was too ignorant to willingly accept. I had been so ill I had nearly died...and here she was, in the same position.

I unraveled the covers slightly, slipping in beside her. I pulled it up to our necks, before wrapping an arm around her waist as comfortably for her as possible.

"I...don't...want your...help..." Christine snapped, shivering immensely. In one pull, I brought her closer into a hug. I sighed softly into her curls.

I forced myself not to think of the horrid thoughts of what countless abusive men have done to her to scar her in this manner. I gritted my teeth. I wouldn't ask her what happened...Christine, no matter how difficult she was being, was home.

Suddenly I could feel her salty tears as she nuzzled her face into my chest.

"I want to stay here...I don't want to go back to the nightclubs!" she sobbed. I hugged her as close as I could, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she wept.

"Christine, you are never going back to a filthy nightclub, I promise...but please don't cry." I murmured softly.

"I'm s-sorry...I'm sorry I ran away from home...I w-won't leave. I want to s-stay...I want to..." she cried, getting softer and softer until she had cried herself to sleep.

I myself couldn't sleep...I couldn't get unanswered questions out of my head.

Later in the night, probably a little past midnight, she had begun to flail in her sleep, and she whimpered things that shook me to the core.

"Raoul...I'll go...leave my baby alone...no, don't touch me...save me, Angel!"

Christine then let out a high-pitched wail, and I shook her awake.

"It's just a dream, Christine, I'm right here!" I warily responded. Once more, she pressed her face to my chest, hysterically sobbing.

Oh lord, how long will this go on while she has returned home? Would the tears and nightmares never end?

I lifted her chin gently, smiling to her in a desperate attempt to calm her down.

"No one is going to ever hurt you again. Raoul isn't here...he's never going to be here. Hush, my angel of music..."

She stared at me for a moment, before pressing a long, pleasurable kiss to my lips.

I was not ready to go all the way with her yet, given she had only just returned. I needed to trust her not to walk out on Cordelia and I again, but Christine was home, at last...


	13. Chapter 13

**Christine**

I shifted when the first rays of sunlight beamed in on me. I still felt Erik's soft breathing, and I could tell he was awake. How he was feeling, I wasn't sure.

"Good morning," he queried, landing a kiss on my forehead again. My eyes felt dry from all the tears I had shed.

"Morning?" I grumbled, rubbing my eyes.

He started getting up. Panicking, I grabbed his shirt.

"Please don't go! Where are you going?" I cried desperately. He winced from my iron grip, and I wasn't sure if I had hurt him or not, but I refused to let go.

"I have work, Christine. Meg is going to tend to you today. Cordelia gets tutored by her every Tuesday and Thursday, so they are both home free for your aid. I'll be back briefly around noon," Erik replied, letting my hands drop back to my sides.

He froze, watching me weep into my covers, before he sat back down, scooping my trembling body into his arms. I continued crying. Why did he have to torment my feelings for him by showing no emotion? Why was he so angry with me?

"Please don't go...I don't want to be alone!"

Gently rocking me now like a young child, Erik's words only seemed to show compassion on he outside, but his gaze was distant and heartbroken.

"You will be alright, I promise you aren't going to be alone. Wipe away your tears, please, and get some rest. I won't have you catch pneumonia. This thrashing is going to rip open the stitches in your arm-" he droned on and on, before I tried to cling to him. Erik shook me off, looking flustered and a bit agitated.

"Christine, please listen to me! You're going to hurt yourself!" he snapped.

"I am not a helpless little girl, Erik, I can take care of myself!" I yelled back at him, glaring him down.

"Oh really," he snorted, crossing his arms, "if you can take care of yourself, then you wouldn't have left the house in the bitter snow, and get kidnapped and taken advantage of by that idiot Vicomte!"

Tears began to flow from my eyes again, as I bellowed out in sorrow. Erik growled in sheer frustration, before stalking out of the door and slamming it shut.

"Erik, what is the matter with you!?" I heard Nadir shout. I sniffled, wiping my tears away, as I focused and listened.

"What's the matter with me!? How about what's wrong with Christine!? I am trying to help her, and she's being difficult!" he snarled in rage.

"Yelling will do the poor thing no good! Whatever's happened to her the last seven years has traumatized her and you need to be patient, because she is the mother of your child and you love each other." Nadir exclaimed. I heard stomping, presumably Erik storming off, before Nadir opened the door.

I flicked the remaining drops off my face, before looking up at him in puzzlement and fear.

"I'm sorry, Miss Daae, please don't be angry with Erik, he's always been insensitive." Nadir grunted. He motioned for me to lift my bandaged arm, to which I did.

As he checked over it, Meg came in, with a little plate of toast and water. I forced a dreary smile on my face.

"Good morning, Meg." I mused. Meg nodded back, before tapping Nadir's shoulder.

I don't think Meg knew I would notice, but the two, Nadir and herself, were wearing identical rings. Nadir rose, as they affectionately stole a glance at each other, before he bid me farewell and made his way.

"So what did I miss out on?" I continued, raising my eyebrows. I sank my teeth into the warm toast. It was covered in cinnamon...a signature of Meg's.

"I'm going to marry Nadir. He proposed two months ago." she said with a grin.

"That's wonderful, Meg! You two will make a cute couple!" I purred, though the last few words came out as a saddened rasp.

"Thank you...oh, Christine..." Meg began, but noticed the tears now running down my face. I grabbed a handkerchief, blotting them away.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry again. I really am happy for you and Nadir."

"Christine, don't worry about Erik, he'll come around...he really does love you. He raised Cordelia so wonderfully, and worked so very hard to be a good father. I know you've had tough times, and he doesn't understand yet, but keep in mind he has had it very hard as well." she tried to encourage.

"Why? What happened to Erik?" I egged on. If I could get information, maybe I could understand a little better why he was upset, maybe that he wasn't upset with me as I assumed he was.

"Moving to America came with a price. All the money when we came over, we used to buy a cheap apartment and mainly we provided food for Cordelia. Erik starved himself several times just so the rest of us would eat. Then there was his job..." Meg trailed off, and just like Erik had earlier many times, glanced away with this sad, distant look.

"Erik said he had to provide for everyone by working at a sideshow, right?" I continued for her. She nodded.

"But it was terrible...because of his face, the only job he could get was that horrid sideshow. He'd get extra if people paid to beat him up, or worse. He came home one time with stab wounds up his arm. They scarred over, too, it was terrible. Nadir was a palm reader nearby, and once had to help drag the poor man home because Erik had been knocked unconscious. How we became wealthy was a miracle, really."

I covered my mouth to keep the cries from escaping my lips. Poor, _poor_ Erik...how could I be so harsh to him?

"Oh my god..." I grimaced.

"Would you like me to send Cordelia in?" Meg quickly changed the subject.

"Yes please, and Meg?"

"Yes Christine?"

"Thank you, for the breakfast, and...for being my best friend." I stammered.

She grinned.

"Of course. You are my best friend too, Christine. I'll have Cordelia come in right away," Meg responded. She crept out of the bedroom, carrying the tray away with her, while I patiently waited to see my child once again.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Here is my late Christmas present to all my darling readers...another chapter! I do hope you all will enjoy it~**

.::.

**Erik**

I drummed my fingers against my desk, filing out bills.

I couldn't erase her from my head. Christine...Christine, why do you torment me so, with your perfection? Why are you so difficult in letting me love you?

Madame Giry had stopped me in the hall earlier.

"Don't let her get in the way of the park's success, or the lives we worked hard to make for ourselves," she had warned ominously, before strutting away. In the way? I hadn't understood, but Antoinette was always edgy with people.

"Erik, you're turning stark pale...are you alright?" Nadir interrupted my frenzied thought process, cocking his head in concern.

"I don't know," I numbly responded. I continued writing to the best of my extent, but I felt dazed and confused, almost nauseous.

"Don't play around with me. Go home, I'll take over."

Nadir moved to snatch the papers from me, but I stopped him.

"I'm fine! Leave me be!" I snapped, glaring him down. Immediately, the air felt tense.

"Erik, you're lovesick, you want to be home with Christine. Before Rookheeya died, everyday I would write her letters because I would get lonely on duty. Go. Home. That's final." Nadir replied sternly. He took the remaining bills, returned to his desk and began to fill them out himself.

Coldly, I stalked out, buttoning up my coat. I had no choice now...

.::.

I didn't know what to expect when I got home. Meg was sitting alone when I entered, drinking tea.

"Is Cordelia in bed yet?" I asked. Meg blinked, looking up from her newspaper.

"Afraid not. Christine was talking to her about the old photobook, last time I checked," she replied. After bidding me a goodnight, I left her downstairs. Stiffly I walked up the steps to the second floor hall.

I slowly crept in the room, unnoticed and observing. I had no idea Cordelia would bring Christine my photobook...

The scruffy, leather scrapbook was halfway filled with little writings, sentimental small objects, and drawings. The next half were photos that either Christine or Meg took, little black and white prints that Meg later had taken off the film and purchased so we could keep them.

"See this one? Your papa was sick and I brought him toast, and he complained I would make him fat off of butter," Christine cooed. Cordelia giggled.

I couldn't help but smile. I felt fondness flood through my heart as I stepped into the light.

"And if I didn't have your mother, I probably would've died of hunger," I mused. I took a seat on the bed beside Christine, snuggling my arm up around her shoulders.

Christine sort of nodded, recognizing my comforting posture, before continuing on.

"And this one, is a drawing papa made when we learned we were going to have you. It does look a lot like you turned out to be, Cordelia."

I looked down at the little sketch, for the first time realizing the accuracy of my prediction.

"Indeed it does. Cordelia sweetheart, it is past your bedtime." I added quickly. Cordelia pouted for a moment, before wrapping her small hands around Christine's waist in a hug. To my relief, Christine happily returned it, before my daughter scurried off to bed.

Carefully, Christine placed the photobook on her nightstand, flicking off the light until we were nearly drenched in darkness.

At first she did not say anything. I was used to both dark and light levels, so I could see the evermore complicated expression of blankness, grief, and contemplation.

My hand ran to her forehead, much like the night before. She was still feverishly cold.

I moved my arms instinctively around the small curves of her waist. She had once had beautiful hips, but clearly starvation had out ruled it and made her seem to shrink in her skin.

"Christine," I murmured affectionately. For a moment, she frowned, and tears trickled down her cheeks.

"I can't do this, Erik," she whispered back, trembling with fear. I pulled her close into a hug as she burst into sobs.

"You can do this. You belong here. Cordelia needs you, Meg needs you, I need you."

"I'm going to ruin everything, can't you see? You worked so hard to build this safe haven for our daughter, spent years of suffering to protect her, and my presence will make it crash and burn!"

"And what makes you believe that for an instant? I want you here. It's not your fault this happened, it's mine," I began to choke in my own tears, as I pulled away and began to cry in my hands, "I murdered to get my way in life...I've murdered people...my time in Persia with Nadir..."

.::.

**Christine**

I relaxed in Erik's grip. Oh god, he was crying, what could I do?

"I don't care what happened in Persia, Erik, I wasn't there, I can't judge you," I calmly said.

"But...the Opera House-"

"Madame and Meg told me what happened, and I feel foolish for being frightened before by it."

Erik stopped crying, instead began kissing my jawline. I took in a deep breath as our eyes met.

"Why me, Christine? You could have any man in the world...I thought the Vicomte made you happy." he whispered.

"For a while, Raoul's presence made me happy, but I never loved him. I wanted my Angel of Music." I warily responded. My bandaged arm made its way up and around his shoulders as I snuggled Erik close to me.

He drew back a breath, startled by my affectionate approach, before he allowed his chin to rest above my head. There was no longer tears.

Only peace.

.::.

**Meg**

Maman entered the house looking irritated and angry. I set down my cream-colored teacup, before glancing up to her.

"Hello Maman, you're home late." I chirped socially. Her green eyes settled in a glare upon me, before she growled in frustration.

"I am indeed. Where's Erik?" she snapped.

I cocked an eyebrow, a slight scowl appearing on my puckered lips. Why did she care about what Erik's doing?

"He's comforting Christine, Maman."

"Of course he is," she roared, "because ever since that deceiving wench came back, she's been eating off his money and his feelings for her own personal gain!"

Now irritated myself, I stood up, crossing my arms.

"Christine is not feeding off of Erik or any of us. You are being awfully inhospitable. She has a right to be here...if you care about Erik and Cordelia you should be thankful." I countered.

Maman laughed sarcastically, now pacing back and forth, more than likely thinking of something venomous to say next.

"I could care less about Erik, the little girl on the other hand doesn't need a whore for a mother. Why couldn't you settle with Erik instead of the Persian? Cordelia could've been happy with you as her other parent."

Indeed, now I was infuriated. My mother...why was she being so heartless?

But she wasn't finished, no, she continued on in her hateful rant.

"You know why Erik is letting her stay, right? Because he's going to let her steal your job! He's replacing us!"

"That's enough, Maman," I finally shouted, "I love Nadir, he is my fiancee and he is wonderful to me. I love Cordelia, but I could never be her mother, and Erik would be unhappy if we had married as you wanted us to, and even you can't deny that! I am going to bed, and you are going to be pleasant to Christine because she is family!"

With that, I stomped off to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. God, I was glad Nadir wasn't home yet to see this argument, and I now prayed Cordelia hadn't heard this...

I prayed Maman would not take her anger out on my family...and most of all, I wondered why she suddenly snapped into a raging, vile creature.


	15. Chapter 15

**Erik**

I awoke to an empty bed. I clawed at empty air for a moment, before realizing Christine was not in the room. Had someone taken her?

I jolted awake, rubbing my eyes. Perhaps Meg took her with her to tour around the stage. Today I had no work. I never work on Saturdays.

Cracking my eyelids open slightly, I looked up, to see Christine shuffling through her wardrobe.

"Wha-what...what are you doing up so early?" I groaned. She turned to me, grinning in the bathrobe thrown around her pale body.

"I was organizing my closet. If that's alright with you, of course?" she chided, carefully decking a dress on a hanger.

"Come back in bed," I grumbled.

Christine laughed for the first time since she had returned home, before pulling the covers down and settling back in beside me.

She pushed her hand in my face. At first, I didn't understand what she was doing, until my eyes focused upon the glittering diamond ring upon her finger.

I took her hand in mine to observe it. Yes-this was the engagement ring I had given to her years before, and indeed, she had kept it.

"After seven years, would it be valid?"

"Of course, Christine, why would I want anything less than to marry the woman I love..." I mused.

"But where would we honeymoon to?" Christine asked.

"To these bedsheets," I teased, cupping her face with my hands.

"Then we already honeymooned hours ago..." she purred, then pressed her lips to mine.

After the kiss finished, thoughts...plans churned in my mind.

"We should have our wedding in April. You always said you love springtime," I decided.

"That sounds wonderful, Erik," she grunted back, "can we go back to sleep?"

I couldn't help but chuckle for a moment, before I rested the covers back up around our necks.

.::.

**Madame Giry**

"Wedding?" I whispered to myself as I listened in on their little charades and antics...

No. I would not allow it. Their wedding would be sabotaged. I had to do something about it. But what?

I pulled out my list of addresses. Oh, perfect, I knew exactly who to call upon. I didn't have to harm Christine, but Erik would learn a lesson or two.

.::.

**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. I think there will only be a few more chapters until I finish this story.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Christine**

It had been set four months ago that on this day, Erik and I would wed.

The wedding was not to be big or exuberant, we had decided. Nothing would be fancy except my gown.

My hair in time had started to grow back past my shoulders...it still was not terribly long but it made it a few inches longer than before. Its vibrant curls were now decked in white flowers and a veil, that Meg was fixing just right.

"Meg?" I asked nervously.

She looked up, eyes glittering.

"Yes, Christine?"

"Were you scared...marrying Nadir? Did he get angry because you weren't pure at marriage?" I murmured.

"I was a little scared, but he loves me and I love him, so I know everything was going to be alright. Erik loves you, and you both adore Cordelia, and because of that, I can determine you'll live very happily together as a family." Meg happily answered. Placing a bouquet of flowers in my hands, she was done.

Family. I grinned, remembering the exciting news I had to tell Erik.

"Christine? It's time."

Meg interrupted my thought process. Anxiety set in as I began to walk the aisles. From here, I could see the man I loved...and realized how nerve-wracking this event must be for him. He despised anything public.

As I settled beside the altar, I let a free hand interlace with Erik's. My theory was confirmed when he squeezed it back, his fingertips twitching.

Cordelia finished throwing her red flower petals, before taking her place behind us, grinning to her aunt Meg for a moment.

"Do you, Erik Mulheim, take Christine Daae, to be your wife, through death shall you part?"

I tensed, awaiting Erik's answer.

"I do." Erik replied, as calmly as he could muster.

"And do you, Christine Daae, take Erik Mulheim as your husband, through death shall you part?"

The option weighed upon me, and I found myself speechless for a brief moment. My words would design my fate... What was I supposed to say?

Erik nudged me slightly, and under his mask I saw his eyes glint with concern. I knew I was keeping people waiting.

With a gust of breath, I panted, "I do."

The priest smiled, then turned to Erik, dipping his head cordially.

"You may kiss the bride."

Erik lifted the corner of his mask, before we leaned in to kiss, sealing our fate forever as one.

Then suddenly, the chandelier...every candle on its crystalline mass burned out, leaving us in pitch blackness.

Cordelia immediately ran to my arms, and I scooped her up in a hug.

"It's only a blackout. I'm going to see if there are any spare matches." Erik announced. I tried not to let him go...but he was already gone.

I listened to the shuffling and murmuring in the dark.

"Is he coming back?" Cordelia whispered after a few minutes had passed.

"Your papa will be back soon. Don't worry, darling," I replied.

After hesitation, I called out, "Erik? Are you alright?"

Hearing a scurrying about, the candles in a trance-like swoosh, all lit back up, each little tongue bursting up.

Meg tugged on my arm, holding a letter with fear in her eyes. As she passed it on to me, she went to her husband's arms, tears glistening in her eyes.

_I hope you've had a good wedding, Christine, I truly do hope you will enjoy stealing my job, my life._

_Come to the pier if you want to see your foolish Phantom, and bring your bastard child that probably isn't even his._

_-Antoinette Giry_

"Why would Madame Giry kidnap Erik?" I shrieked. Nadir snatched the paper from my hands, reading it over, before turning to Meg, raising his eyebrows.

"A few months ago," she blurted tearily, "she said she hated you and Erik, and wanted to damn you both to hell...I didn't tell you her words because I didn't want to ruin your happiness...I didn't know Maman would attack you on your wedding. I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault, Meg," I whimpered, "but I think I know where she is on the pier. We have to hurry."

Nadir nodded, helping his wife back steady on her feet. We bid the weary and confused priest a goodbye, before hurrying out the church doors.

I would not let this old hag ruin my happy wedding.


	17. Chapter 17

**Christine**

I rushed out beyond the boating docks to a little pier with shipping crates lining the entrance.

The sea was cold and gray, as I could see. The sky was dark with arriving storm clouds.

I could see a lone figure on the pier. I knew that shape from anywhere.

"Cordelia, stay right here with your uncle and aunt, please?" I murmured with the only sense I could bear.

"But Mama, I want to come with you. I want my daddy," she cried, tears glistening in her eyes.

I kissed her forehead, knowing there was no choice but to have Meg deal with my daughter, before I began to walk towards the pier.

Past the shipping crates, I walked up along the railings, perching beside a post.

Erik was gagged and tied there, his mask off and his forehead bleeding. I shook him out of his unconscious state.

"Erik!" I yelped, pressing my hand onto his forehead. His eyes widened, and he struggled for a moment, before I ripped the gag off for him.

"Christine, listen to me, you are not safe-" he began to object, but it was too late for him to argue as I began to untie the knots around his wrists.

Erik gritted his teeth, as I saw fresh hot droplets fall from his eyes.

"Where is Madame Giry? I want her arrested for this, this betrayal," I snarled.

His eyes wandered over to the right, where he startled crying again hysterically. Had he completely lost his mind? Did the marriage we had finalized mean nothing to him?

"Go home, Christine, I was meant to die, just go!" Erik howled.

"I am not going home! I promised you I would stay after we were apart for seven damn years, so long it tortured me to be so far. I thought you were dead, vice versa, so no, if I go home then you're coming with me!" I shouted, losing my patience.

As soon as I finally got him loose, his weak arms flung around me in his almost pitiful sobbing.

"Erik, it's going to be okay. But tell me, who did this to you?" I cooed, although in my heart I already knew the answer.

Erik looked up, past over my shoulder, and gasped, answering the question for me.

Madame Giry was smirking, only a few yards away from us, with three tall, muscular men behind her. She snapped her fingers together, pointing to Erik wordlessly for a moment, before she spoke.

"Hold him close to the pier, don't let the whore near him. He struggles, torture him, is that clear?" she growled in her husky voice.

I helplessly tried to hold onto my beloved as he was easily pried away. Even more so helplessly, I began to sob myself as these strange men held him dangerously close to the water's edge.

My Erik fought, kicking and hollering at the top of his lungs to free himself, but as soon as the fist landed in his chest and knocked the wind out of him, he froze, head drooping into a useless state.

Worse now, Meg and Nadir no longer could bear to watch this agony, bringing Cordelia along with them.

"Maman, please-" Meg began to plead, but Madame Giry wasn't stupid, for sure, for she drew a pistol, and pointed it at their heads.

"One more step and I'll ask these gentleman to drown the skeleton," she crooned vilely.

I scowled, hands balling into fists.

"I wasn't trying to steal your job when I returned to Erik, Madame! I don't understand why you would think that...what had I ever done to you?" I cried.

"Oh, did you now?" Madame Giry snapped, "Sadly dearie, you first destroyed my reputation as a ballet instructor at the Opera House, then proceeded to come here and attempt to, what did you say before? 'Return to your life?' That life didn't belong to you!"

Unable to even submit to her torment, I could only listen on, from the corner of my eye glancing at Erik and trying to think of a plan, for I knew he couldn't swim.

"What's the matter, prima donna, can't bear to watch your lover die a slow, painful death? I have a solution...a compromise we can make, if you're interested..."

For a moment I hesitated, before swallowing and nodding yes.

"Don't do it, Christine, don't bargain with that wench!" Nadir snarled from nearby. Madame Giry cocked the handle of the gun pointing it dangerously at his heart.

I could see for once how insanely wicked the old lady looked. Her hair was unkempt and silver, wrinkles lining her body, and her eyes hollow and mad.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes," Madame Giry withdrew a ticket from her coat pocket, handing it to me.

"You can take this ship, leaving in two hours, with your belongings and be gone forever, or your husband can die." she cackled.

I began to examine the ticket for a moment. If this was the only way to save him, then I would have to take it.

I could feel the moist tears begin to fall again from my gentle eyes.

_"I'll leave,"_ I croaked, crestfallen. As I began to walk away sadly, I heard the gun holster flop against her hip, and all too late I heard Erik shriek as the gun was fired.


	18. Chapter 18

**Christine**

I gasped, feeling my chest and stomach for any sign of bullet holes, as I was scared and felt no pain.

Instead, clinging desperately at my arm was Erik, who stood tall and stoic for a moment, before collapsing onto the ground, his hand tighter than iron bars.

"Oh my god, Erik!" I screeched, bending down beside him. The gun had fired him in the back...why had he jumped in front of me? How had he freed himself?

Cordelia screamed, twisting her way out of Meg's grip and running to her father's side.

"Meg," I begged, turning to her, "go get help! Please!"

Madame Giry, now horrified and realizing what she'd done, shouted something in babbling nature to the men, and all four fled the scene. She would pay, I burned in my mind, she would pay...

Meg held onto Cordelia's hand for a moment, who then tried to free herself again, before in agony again, I knew my daughter could not watch this...she was too young to watch her father potentially die.

"Cordelia, go with Aunt Meg..."

"Mama-"

"Go!" I stammered. As soon as they were gone, Nadir presumably chasing after Madame, I was alone on the pier with Erik.

Almost in a trance-like state, I numbly intertwined my fingers with his, and my eyes ached because now I could not stop silently crying.

"Please don't die, Erik, please don't die..." I whispered.

"You're...a stubborn child... Ch-Christine," Erik coldly remarked, his breathing heavy and struggling. He was freezing cold, and in pain. I tore my coat off my body, wrapping it around his back where the bullet had pierced.

He took in a sharp breath as I did so, but when he relaxed a bit, he let out a long sigh. His glazed amber eyes had death and destruction written on them as he stared at the sky.

"I wanted a happy marriage. I didn't want it to end like this. I wanted us to live in the house and snuggle by the fire when the home was chilly, and the children would nestle on the floor while we read them stories of the north..." I began to wretch out to him, lips trembling.

"Children?" Erik murmured in puzzlement.

"Yes, Erik, children." I whimpered.

In silence, we both looked opposite ways.

He was waiting for me to say it, though he already had guessed. I knew Erik wasn't stupid.

I swallowed in a choking sob, despite how painful it was already, before I spoke again.

"I was going to tell you when we got home from the wedding. I only just figured it out today...Erik, I'm pregnant." I admitted sadly.

I could see now the tears glistening along his eyes now. A new reason to fight. With my thumbs, I wiped them away for him.

He was shivering now, even with my thick, long coat he was freezing. The icy hand of death was looming over my Angel, and I wouldn't let death take him.

Temporarily, I lifted the coat off of him, and lay myself on top of Erik, my head rested on his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. The coat now rested above us, and for once, he was still shivering madly.

"I-I'm not ready to die..." he moaned subconsciously. Without thinking, I pressed a kiss to his lips, which seemed to delay him from feeling pain or sadness, before cold reality set back in and he began to cry again, his one arm uninjured he faintly held onto my arm with.

"You won't die, Erik, hold on. Fight for me, please." I whispered.

I could hear help coming. I warily moved the coat off, putting his battered, other arm up around my shoulders and beginning to move him. I knew Erik was slipping away, slowly.

"Please help him!" I called to the approaching medical assistants. A doctor was quick to load him in a motorized buggy, and Erik's hand was still tight on my wrist, now squeezing tighter. He hated doctors, but it was for his best.

"_Stay_ with me, Angel, stay with me..." I cried, but he no longer heard me.

.::.

Hours passed as I stared at the clock right outside in the lobby. What was taking them so long?

A doctor finally came outside, and I brightened up, expecting a hopeful recovery, but his grim expression shot me down.

"Well? Is he okay?" I prosed, expecting an immediate answer.

"He has not only had the bottom of his lung punctured, but two of his ribs shattered and damage to his skull. He hasn't woken up yet, Mrs. Mulheim, we're very sorry. Come back tomorrow, perhaps." he mused in response.

Furious now, and in grievance, I stood up to this ignorant doctor.

"Let me see him!" I argued back.

"I don't advise that-"

"I want to see him _now_."

With that, the doors opened. Erik was lying there, like a dead statue, and I threw myself beside him and hysterically wailed. Why did he have an oxygen tube over his lips? Why did he appear so dead?

"Please wake up, Erik..." I whined almost like a lost puppy, but I knew he couldn't hear me, but if he could why wouldn't he answer me?

Swish. Swoosh. Swish. Swoosh. There was no difference in the large breaths the machine was making him take. I wondered how big the puncture in his lung had been...probably not huge, but big enough to harm him gravely.

I knew crying would do him no good. Leaving all my love behind in that room, I had to go home to see Cordelia and Meg, and even Nadir, because if Erik died, they're the only family I had left.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Okay, the story is only a few chapters away from completion. I have started writing chapter one of my new fanfic, which is a very different take on POTO (no, don't guess fantasy. Last time I did a fantasy version of POTO it was terrible...)**

**Hope you'll enjoy it! -PhantomLilac**

.::.

**Nadir**

Of my own accord, I decided it would be easier for my wife and niece to relax if I bought them dinner.

We were walking now, and everything was dead silent.

"Isn't it unusual for Coney to be quiet?" I commented.

Cordelia shook her little head, a serious and drained expression in her face.

"The night Mama was attacked, it was quiet." she said stoically.

I thought for a moment. Cordelia wouldn't say something like that under normal circumstances, would she? I stopped in the middle of our walking. Attacked? It was quiet, was it not?

I whirled around to face them, but instead of finding Meg and Cordelia, I found a letter on the ground. I snatched it up, tearing it open. What the hell had Antoinette done now?

Shakily I dropped the envelope, letting instead of a note, a whole ticket receipt drop. Antoinette was shipping them to Paris...no, to the Vicomte's manor!

I had to get to the hospital...warn Erik and Christine! No doubt, Madame Giry would want Christine as part of the packaged deal.

My stomach flipped as I picked up and ran the whole seven blocks to the tall white building. I knocked hard and long on the door marked as Erik's, before barging in myself. It was clear he was still heavily unconscious.

Unable to think, I scribbled down a note for him should he awake soon.

_Giry has Cordelia and Meg. Sending them to Vicomte. Get help. -Nadir_

Oh god, if Christine wasn't here, she could be anywhere!

Panicking, I swung the door open, only for her to be right at the entrance with a plate of ice cold water and cookies. She stared at me as if I were the craziest man alive, before walking past and setting the plate down on Erik's bedside stand.

"I came back to bring him some cookies. How come you and Meg weren't at home with my daughter?" Christine raised an eyebrow.

"That's the thing...Madame Giry...shipping them to Paris, to the Vicomte," I panted.

"What?" Christine yelped. She looked from Erik, to me.

"Nadir, you have to rescue them, I have to stay here for Erik...he could die." Christine whimpered.

"I know..." I said, for the first time ever feeling frightened out of my mind.

.::.

**Christine**

Only a few minutes after Nadir had left, I was alone in the room, somewhat terrified. My daughter was out there, all alone. I was foolish to leave her with Nadir and Meg...for we knew Madame Giry had fled the scene after shooting Erik!

I lifted his weak, bruised wrist. When I had went home, I had changed out of my wedding dress into a nightgown, telling the doctors I intended on staying with him.

For the first time in hours, he aroused, his eyes blinking slightly open as he let out a low moan.

Wiping away my frightened, timid tears, I smiled, cupping his face with my hands, before laying a kiss on his forehead.

"Ch-Chris...Christine?" Erik groaned, moving to remove the oxygen mask. I helped pull it off of his face, so he could breathe clearly of his own accord.

"I'm right here, mon ange, and I'm not going anywhere." I murmured back.

"I..._hate_...Madame G-giry."

"So do I. Can you sit up?"

He struggled for a moment on his own, but found he could not. With my assistance, I propped pillows up behind him and let him sit.

I placed the tray of cookies and water on his lap.

"They're chocolate chip," Erik grumbled.

"Yes, indeed. Eat." I replied.

Erik picked it up and whined, "You of all p-people should know that...Dark ch-chocolate tears up my s-stomach."

I grinned cheekily.

"Which is why it's bittersweet and not dark."

Erik rolled his eyes, taking a bite. His face lit up, making me giggle slightly.

"You, d-devil woman, will m-my undoing."

I sat beside him as he ate slowly and carefully, and to hound on him if he dared not to finish every crumb. I knew giving him something sweet was not the best choice, but what harm could it do?

"Are you s-sure you don't follow me around b-because you have S-Stockholm Syndrome?" Erik muttered.

I shook my head.

"Why would you think that?" I responded, almost insulted. He shrugged.

"No particular...r-reason, except maybe I k-kidnapped you, killed p-people, and attempted to f-force you into marriage. Th-then you gave up potential happily e-ever after with one of the w-wealthiest men in Paris to chase after me." he pointed out.

"Erik, you're giving me the guilt trip. Drink your water."

He let the cool drink trickle past his lips, and with a swallow, was done.

"I w-would ask you to sit on my lap, but I am not s-sure if that will pain my b-back." Erik mumbled.

I smiled to keep him positive.

"And how is your back?" I politely inquired. He sent a venomous remark back.

"T-Terrible, and I hate doctors," he snapped. When I flinched, he quickly apologized.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, Erik. Get your rest. The better you get, the faster you'll be on your feet.

I helped lower him back down, before placing the oxygen mask back on his mouth. It didn't take long for him to lull back into a slumber.

Patiently, I would pray and wait for Nadir, to bring my daughter home safe and sound...


	20. Chapter 20

**Erik**

I awoke again later to the voices of Nadir and Christine urgently chattering about something. I kept my eyes closed, so they would not realize I was listening.

"Will I have to move him?" Christine fretted.

"No. Madame Giry and her goons are bringing Cordelia and Meg at dawn. I have already alerted the police, and they are going to hide in the designated room. I am merely going to switch the name tags on the doors so this room appears vacant and the other supposedly has Erik." Nadir explained matter-of-factly.

"Are you sure it will work?"

"I am certain. I will hide with you two in here with a loaded gun...police will be across the hall as well watching for danger. Madame Giry thinks she's so smart but she is a fool..." Nadir brilliantly remarked, clapping his hands together.

"What the hell? You're risking my daughter's life on some branded scheme?" I howled, blinking my eyes open in fury. Christine rushed back beside me, forcing me down unwillingly as I tried to get up.

I struggled with her. I would kill Nadir for this! How dare he let Cordelia slip away from his guard, and gamble it all away!

"Erik, please calm down!" Christine yelped. I ripped the oxygen mask off of my face, as it had begun to irritate my breathing, and spit my curses at the man.

"You are a fool, Persian. Christine entrusted you with Cordelia and you lost her...you bastard! I hope you _rot_ in hell!" I shouted. Before too long, Nadir shook his head, then looked to Christine for approval.

Christine glanced at me. What was she getting at? What were they doing? The moment I saw the syringe, I knew exactly what they were doing. It was not the first time Nadir decided to sedate me.

I squirmed, wriggling free of her grip and trying to sit up, sharply causing pain along my back. Drat! Antoinette, the wench...she had shot me and now I was going to be drugged all because of her betrayal.

"To hell with both of you..." I cried as the needle released its fluid into my shoulder.

I let out a deranged, bloodcurdling scream as the pain in my back increased, before clawing at my pillows. I fell back onto the bed, panting for air. My lung...why couldn't I breathe?

"I trusted you, Christine! I trusted you...b-backstabbing...little..." I growled, feeling dizzier and dizzier.

Everything had grown extremely blurry. I felt the oxygen mask go back over my face, then everything had gone thick and black.

.::.

**Christine**

I felt terrible, having to drug Erik again.

"Nadir, should we have done so?" I murmured, as I ran my hand through my husband's greying wisps. Erik's tired eyes closed again, and the only noise from him was his soft, though ragged breathing.

"I'll face his wrath later, Christine. He needed to be asleep, otherwise he would stir all of Coney and our position would be given away. You fix his bed and I'll go switch the names on the doors."

I nodded, squeezing Erik's limp hand affectionately. It was hours away until Madame Giry would arrive, and I wanted her arrested and out of our lives.

My memory jerked to Raoul...

.::.

**Christine's Flashback**

_"Leave the child and come on already! Refuse me and I'll kill it!" Raoul snarled, pulling back the safety of the gun._

_"Please, Raoul, my baby-" I cried, but cut me off with an aim. Sniffling up my tears, I removed my coat, wrapping my child tight. I stared at her beautiful form...her beautiful amber eyes, and her little brown curls._

_I set her down in the snow, and immediately she wailed. Raoul grabbed my arm, tugging me along._

_"I don't even have to marry you now, Christine. Think of it more as an imprisoned mistress. When we get home, you better be on my bed and ready for me like the slut you are. Bedding a demon...I can't believe you had that monster's child! And what on earth where you doing in the snow?" he hissed in my ear. I turned and slapped him, starting to run._

_Raoul was faster. Like a viper, he had already caught up, tackling me in the blizzard. Handcuffs...he had handcuffs? My arms were pinned and snapped behind my back as he dragged me along now._

_"Angel! Please save me..." I sobbed, knees dragging and numb now. I was certain my wrists were bleeding from his ragged abuse._

_"Stupid whore!" Raoul kicked me. "Walk, damn it!"_

_I knew no one heard me. I was trapped. So I got up and walked, pitifully sobbing the whole way to his townhouse, and crying in misery on his bed._

.::.

**Christine**

No! I forced myself away from the painful memories. Instead, fear and hysteria settled in...I couldn't think. Panting for air, I curled up into a little ball, rocking back and forth in my seat.

I moved my hands to the little bump forming on my stomach...I wanted this baby to be part of my life. I would not let Madame Giry take Erik and Cordelia away from me.

I shook Erik, hysterically crying.

"Wake up..._Erik_, wake up..." He didn't stir. I wailed loudly, regretting having drugged him into unconsciousness.

I needed him to comfort me right now...images of Raoul and Monsieur Maynard's use and abuse was flooding to my mind. Violently, I clutched the sides of my head.

Go away! Get out of my head! Someone please save me...

"Christine? Christine!" Nadir said in concern as he returned to the room. He calmly approached me, pulling my hands away from my head and patting me on the back.

I tearily looked up to him.

"I'm okay..." I grunted, wiping the drops away with shaky hands.

"I could hear your crying all the way down the hall. Did something happen?" Nadir persisted, crossing his arms.

"I...I'm fine, really, just bad memories," I finished, then turning back to Erik, who was fast asleep.

Please Erik, I thought, please wake up soon.


	21. Chapter 21

**Erik's Flashback**

Meg sobbed in Madame Giry's arms in the corridors of the Opera House.

"Are you sure it was Buquet?" I asked, grip tightening on my punjab lasso.

"Yes," she cried, "he is the one who took advantage of me..."

Madame Giry hugged her daughter tighter, before her eyes burned with passionate hatred.

Antoinette stared me in the eye for a moment, before I knew exactly what she wanted.

She wanted to kill Josef herself. Couldn't blame her, the man was a fat, bumbling idiot.

I grinned madly, holding out the old, threaded rope to her. She took it from my hands, knowing what to do. I followed closely behind in the shadows, as Meg wiped away her tears and left to get ready for Il Muto.

It didn't take long for me to get Carlotta offstage. I had tampered with her throat spray earlier. Inside I had put high quantities of primed parsley...I knew it would scratch up her terrible voice in no time.

Antoinette slunk out first during the ballet rat's dance, and caught Josef by surprise. As soon as it was caught around his throat, the life squeezed out of him by the second, I arose from behind, and kicked the body down onto the stage.

The ballet girls screamed, pointing up in the rafters as I laughed maniacally. Only, that's not the only noise I heard. From mere yards away, Christine and Raoul were running up the stairs to the balcony.

Where was she going? In confusion, I followed up another path. Had Meg not told Christine what had happened to her? I thought the two shared everything with each other. Perhaps I was wrong, Meg had been traumatized.

The rooftop is where they vanished to. I looked onward, from behind a statue, and listened to the conversation.

"I can't go back there, Raoul, I just can't. Why don't you understand? He'll kill everyone," she sobbed, wiping away her tears of agony.

"It was an accident. Madame Giry said he slipped while pulling down the set and it happened to catch his throat. The Phantom doesn't exist!" the idiot argued. I rolled my eyes.

Christine grabbed the front of his jacket desperately.

"I've been down there, to his lair, Raoul this isn't one of papa's fairytales. He exists..."

"Christine..." I cooed, throwing my voice beside her. She burst to tears.

I covered my ears as Raoul only told her words of love, and she accepted...she gave into him.

Hot tears glistened down my face as they left, happily bounding around in each other's arms. Marriage...she was going to marry him!?

I threw myself out of my hiding place, looking down at Paris far below me. Could I do it now? I wanted to die...I wanted to die...

Was this what heartbreak felt like? Searing grief shot through me as I let out my wretched hatred.

"You will curse this day, Christine Daae!" I shouted.

Through the howling winds, I let my rose, with its now broken petals, flutter through the breeze. I broke down on my knees, sobbing.

I had done this all to help her soar. I assisted in killing Buquet to protect her closest friend. No...no more favors. Apparently no good deed will go unpunished...if she can go off with a pansy like the Vicomte then I would take her as mine.

Whether she wanted me or not, I would have my living bride.

.::.

She pulled away from my face, her eyes wet and hot from all the crying, after giving me the most perfect kiss anyone could ever stand.

I staggered backwards, gasping for breath. Now I had really tainted beauty! Ruined it!

The yells of the enraged mob growing evermore loud...I grabbed a candle, and with that, burned off the rope around her Vicomte's neck. I grabbed his throat for a second, and the slimy bastard winced under my grip.

I let him fall to his feet, walking away. I felt something cold in my hand...Christine had slipped the ring into my clenched fist. I bit back tears.

"Take her," I snapped, "take her on the boat...leave! Go now and leave me!"

"Erik, where are you going to go? The mob will kill you," she choked out.

"Don't reason with the monster," Raoul growled, "Let's go."

"Erik-"

"Listen to your perfect fiancee. Since you are so desperately in love with each other," I sarcastically retorted, leading myself up the stairs where I collapsed on my throne.

I waited until they were gone to shed tears of my own. Christine was gone...I had lost.

The music box with the little Persian monkey began to play music on its own. I sniffed, lowering onto my knees beside it, and sang along with the familiar tune.

"Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Hide your face...so the world...will never find you..."

All too soon, I heard shouting voices.

"There he is! Get him!" One roared. I leapt to my feet. I was such a fool! Now I would be damned in hell...damn me! Damn me for god's sakes!

I whirled down the corridor. I didn't care where I was going to go, I was just going to run away. I would run away, and kill myself, for if my body was ever surrendered to the idiotic police, I would be screaming in vain in the afterlife.

It was getting brighter. The lights of torches was glowing hot not too far from me, and soon I was face to face with some of the monstrous dregs of humankind.

"Catch him, kill him!" One of the ladies screeched. I whirled around to run, but someone's gun went off, hitting the rocky ceiling.

I gasped as the rocks tumbled on top of me, a rather large one pinning my leg to the floor. I was done for.

Crack! A whip hit my back, sending unbearable pain through my body. Was this even human?

No, this was torture.

"Hit him, Alberto, hit him harder!" a wench squealed to my tormentor.

"Of course. Why not have some fun?" the buff, muscular man squawked back.

"N-no..." I wailed as the whip slashed at me repeatedly. Oh god, was it ever going to end?

Blood...when my free hand scrabbled against the rock floor in an attempt to free myself, it felt pools of blood.

Then, I turned my head to look up at the evil man about to lash out on me again, and that horrible shade of red flew into my eyes as the bullwhip crashed down on my back once more...

.::.

The moment Madame Giry was ruffling her holster, pulling out the gun, I knew what she was doing.

The man holding me back, I did the unthinkable, forcing myself to find strength as I rammed him backwards. His companions gasped as he nearly fell off the pier.

I only had seconds to get Christine out of harm's way. I shoved my way in front of Christine, tugging at her arm, when...

_CRACK!_

Images flowed through my mind. I relived very cracking noise I had ever heard...

My master, Javert beating me...Christine smashing into the glass cabinet, the bullwhip of Alberto Piangi's.

Time slowed back to reality. I was shot...I had thrown myself in front of the only person I had ever found in my heart to love in order for their lives to be spared.

With a moan, I collapsed. I was going to die. Why couldn't I breathe correctly? I felt like I was breathing through a burning tube with the strength of ten opera houses aflame...

I smiled on the inside. Christine...I _loved_ Christine...

Goodbye...


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry to spam you all with flashbacks. I promise not too many more... ;)**

**Also another apology::: I accidentally posted this chapter incorrectly in one of my previous fanfics, Daughter of the Phantom. I thought I was updating this phic...I ought to get some shut eye or something haha. So sorry to my followers who probably thought it was a New Year's miracle or something x.x **

.::.

**Erik's Flashback**

"The child is going to be our undoing...Erik, why did you have to keep it?" Antoinette groaned.

My face flashed red with frustration and enragement.

"Cordelia is my daughter, Antoinette. Watch your tongue. She's mine...and I will not let her die because of my foolish mistakes."

I agony, I clutched my heart, tears flowing to my eyes as Antoinette continued.

"And where in the world is Christine?"

I cried, "She's dead...I drove her away and she left Cordelia in the snow and crawled somewhere to die...I killed her..."

Burying my face unto the palms of my hands, my shoulders wracked with my every shuddering outcry.

Christine was dead, it was all my fault. All my fault...all my fault...all my fault...

Dead...she was dead? My mind whirled in different directions...Christine was an angel of music.

Angels couldn't die, right? She was too flawless in pose to die. Christine couldn't die.

I pictured my angel cradled somewhere in a bubble under the snow...cold but not shivering.

Dead...dead? Now I was confused. What was death? Christine...

Christine was dead. I knew deep in my heart, gone, she was so far gone.

I killed her. In my stupor I had yelled at her, and she fled. No surprise there, for who could love a beast such as I?

Once again, I found myself wanting to die. I had fought so hard to keep her, and I was her demise. Perhaps she had been better off after all with the Vicomte.

"...Erik?" Meg called from somewhere above.

"Leave me alone, please Meg...I am a vain fool..." I whimpered, curling into a ball. Where was a cloak of invisibility for me? If only I could hide away from the world...

"Cordelia is crying and she won't stop...please Erik?"

I sighed, wiping my brow and rising to my feet, I walked up past the stares of everyone and everything.

All the little details of the house reminded of her, and my ultimate sin or her slaying. I strolled into her bedroom, where she had stayed, and to the little bundle we had lain upon her bed.

I picked up the crying child of mine, rocking her back and forth protectively in my arms, but she would not stop wailing.

"Shh...shh...please stop crying..." I tried cooing, but she would not cease.

On the verge of tears myself, I began to beg.

"Please don't cry, Cordelia...please!" I yelped.

Suddenly, her little hands flew to my face, her little fingers brushing my deformed cheek, before I paused. Her whines had stopped. Cordelia's face changed to that of a calm, tired child, and her hands moved away as she soundlessly drifted into sleep.

My face...she had touched it, without fear or resentment...

Now my eyes streamed, but they were tears of joy. This child would be our undoing? This child was my savior, and I would do everything in my power to protect her.

.::.

Red. Blood. My life was a cycle of violence.

I was too weak to even fight back. In submission I crumpled to the ground, unmoving as their feet kicked my body, bruising every inch of me.

"Why ain'tcha fighting, sideshow freak?" one horned one, howling with laughter like a hyena. I let out a light groan, trying to sit up, but with a straight up punch to the jaw, I was slammed to the ground, crying in agony. Suddenly, something hard hit my leg.

It was broken, whatever they had done, they had broken my leg. I screamed for help now, struggling, but as each punch and kick destroyed me, I fell back, prepared for death.

"Hey! Lay off or I'll call the police!" a familiar voice snapped. I heard the noise of a loaded gun go off, and the men went scrabbling away.

It was Nadir. He had shot a blank into the air to scare them off.

"N-nadir...my leg...my leg is broken," I stammered, but found that it hurt to talk.

Nadir bent down, shaking his head sadly.

"Oh Allah...Erik, you're bleeding all over... I should take you to a doctor-"

"No! No Doctor, please Nadir, if I am to die allow me so at home..." I shrieked.

He rolled his eyes in irritation, grabbing one of my arms and wrapping it around his shoulders. With one hoisting tug, I was on my feet, though I did not cease to allow a strangling moan to escape my parted lips.

I took staggering, slow steps with my one good leg, more like tiny hops. Nadir sighed, and I knew he was not disappointed in me, rather frightened by this attack.

It only took seconds for me to realize my mask was gone.

"Nadir wait...those men took my mask!" I whimpered, fretting if my daughter were to see it. With jade eyes, he peered at me.

"Honestly Erik, that's the least I'd be worried about at this point." Nadir grunted.

When we entered the door, I heard Cordelia off from somewhere in our little apartment. I turned my face away.

"Dear lord, what happened!?" Meg stammered, eyes popping from the kitchen.

"Daddy's home!" Cordelia squeaked, beginning to run forward, but Meg stopped her, scooping her up and facing her away as I continued along to the bedroom.

"Auntie, let me go! What's wrong, papa? Why can't I go see papa!?" Cordelia whined.

Her words hurt. Why would she even want to see me at this point? If I were to die, I didn't want her in the room to see, but she fought, the little tyke. As soon I was laid on the bed, my five year old child had forced herself to my bedside.

"Papa, why won't you talk to me? Why is your eye swollen and black?" she asked. I smiled faintly, reaching out my hand for her to hold.

"Sweetheart, I'll be okay. I tripped and fell on the stairs coming out of work," I lied, "and Uncle Nadir came to help me."

"I don't like when you come home from work like this. Because you try to pretend you aren't hurting, and it hurts me."

Cordelia crossed her arms, pouting and looking away.

"Cordelia, remember the story I told you, about a little castle where all your dreams would come true?" I tried to change the subject, making things easier on myself, but she faced me again, her blue-green eyes watery and big.

"I saw a mommy with her daughter playing together at the park today."

When I saw the tears begin to fall, my lip quivered, and I parted room for her to snuggle herself against me in a hug.

"When I was a little kid, you used to kiss my cuts and bruises to make me feel better. Why isn't Mommy here to kiss yours?" Cordelia cried innocently.

"Your mother is an angel in heaven, Cordelia. God told her she has to stay there until it is time for us to join her, then she will descend and take us with her." I tried to explain.

Cordelia released the hug, and I cradled her close to my battered and bandaged chest, which seemed to comfort her.

Her little brown curls brushed my neck, just like those of her mother.

"Can you tell me about mommy, please? What was her name? What did she look like?" Cordelia curiously continued.

"Well, her name was Christine, just like your middle name." She brightened at this.

"So am I named after her?"

"Well I suppose in a way, yes," I continued,"and she was very pretty. She had brown curls just like you, and your eyes. And she loved us very much."

Cordelia hobbled over to my drawers, and I didn't know what she was doing, until she pulled out my photobook. I don't know how she found it, but she had.

She picked it up and brought it back over to me. I sat up weakly, the heavy leather thing on my lap. I let my child sit as close as she wanted.

"You promised me one day you would show me your pictures and drawings, Daddy. Please? It might make you feel better."

I couldn't refuse Cordelia...not now. I flipped open the cover, astonished to find that Meg had decked it in random photographs I didn't know she even had taken of Christine and I. Emotions of grief, love, and shock mingled and spread, tingling my cheeks and making my body go numb.

The first photograph was one of me sick in bed, Christine's arms around my neck while I looked rather irritated with her. It was fading at the creases, but I immediately pointed it out to her.

"Here's one I remember. Before you were born, I had the flu and your mother wouldn't leave me alone," amusement of the memory returned to me as I spoke, "and she kept bouncing around and wouldn't let me sleep."

Cordelia nodded, and I flipped through every page, explaining what each little photograph was, until I came upon a little picture of Christine in her Faust outfit. I pulled it out, admiring it. I didn't know it existed. It captured every little detail of her, although in full black ink.

With a sigh, I rested my hand on her hair, tracing it with the memories of holding her while it lasted.

"And here, Cordelia, is her in an outfit for an opera she and I had both been in known as Faust." I said.

With a squeaky yawn, I knew it was time for her bedtime. I began to shut the book, but she caught it, still admiring the picture.

"Can you show me more stories and pictures of mama another time, papa? Please?" she asked sweetly. I nodded, but then reached between the crinkled sheets, pulling out this rare beauty, and placed it in her hands.

"I want you to keep this photo of your mother. I can fetch you a little photobook when I am well so you can keep it safe and sound, but for now the little cabinet in your dresser should be fine." I mused.

She nodded, kissing me a "thanks" and "goodnight" before scurrying away excitedly.

Cordelia's desire to keep the memory of her mother had given me a new hope for the future. Maybe I wasn't meant to die after all...

.::.

**Christine's Flashback**

Run! _RUN!_

My legs screamed for escape. The dirty old bastard, Monsieur Maynard, had left my window open.

Get out! Get away!

My room, or as I affectionately called a torturous hellhole, was on the first floor. Should I jump from the window, it was only a feet feet a fall...the rain-soaked grass would catch my fall.

I struggled with the loose chain around my ankle.

Damn it, come off! I gritted my teeth. Someone, please save me, I thought, but for the past six years, I knew I had to save myself.

CLINK! Off it came. I scrabbled to my locker, forcing it open. My bag from years ago remained untouched with a decent amount of men's pay inside. A raincoat and boots would shield me in the meantime through the thunderstorm.

I yanked the articles into my body, swinging the purse over my shoulder and without a second thought leapt out the window. I staggered for a moment, stunned by the impact, though I wasn't harmed.

Run, Christine, get away, I thought. Get away from the torture, rape and pain...I was scarred for life, but maybe Erik and my daughter were still out there...but where could they be? No, by now Raoul had probably tracked down and killed them, maybe the Giry's too...

Run! Outsmart death. Just run, Christine, run...

The echoes of the claps of thunder shook my brain. The rain was my tears, and the lightning was the unheard screams that were left behind in that terrible room...that gray room with a ray light and a gray window with a gray view...gray, gray, gray...

Gray, the unholy shade of death.


	23. Chapter 23

**Erik**

My eyes cracked from slits. Christine was crouched over me, feeling my forehead.

"You're awake!" she exclaimed. Wearily I nodded.

"That I am," I growled in response. I tried to sit up, but realized I couldn't feel my arms.

The memory of short hours ago flooded back to me as she bent down to kiss my forehead. In a split second, I narrowed my vision.

"Wait a moment! You wench, you drugged me!" I snarled. I opened my mouth to spit another curse, but her hand flew over my mouth. Christine pleadingly stared at me, until I stopped struggling.

"If...if I let go, you have to promise not to be angry with Nadir and I. You had refused to cooperate-Cordelia is my daughter too and this is her only hope." Christine whimpered.

I rolled my eyes and nodded, and I could finally take a gust of breath through my lungs. My glare did not cease to leave, before I rolled and turned over on my side to face away.

"Erik...please don't do this to me...why are you never happy?" Christine cried.

"Why am I never happy? Christine, I am a monster...don't even lie and say my face doesn't disgust you. That is where you pretend."

I flexed my fingers, some of the numb tingling sensation starting to ebb away. As soon as I got out of this damned hospital, I would take Cordelia and leave...

"I don't pretend. I am not a child whether you like it or not. I am your wife for heaven's sake!" Christine broke through the barrier of her fury, and she grabbed my shoulder, turning me back around and slapping me.

It hurt. The slap stung like a wildfire across my cheek. I gasped, eyes widening, as I stared at the woman who committed this act.

Christine was seething with rage, her face gone pale white, except her burning hot cheeks drenched in rich scarlet. Her delicate fingers were clenched in snow colored fists, every knuckle brimming and rippling.

I was certain my expression was something in between sheer agitation or hurt, but my teeth clenched as a stray tear rolled down my cheek.

She didn't back down, though. From my experience, a woman in an argument was as if I were getting arrested. Everything I could say in retaliation would be used against me.

"Anguish, Christine, anguish! Seven years... And I thought...I was told..." I spat. I could finally bend my elbows, my hands flying nimbly to my face in an attempt to bury it away, but Christine caught my wrists in her iron grip.

"What were you told!?"

She leaned in close, intent on listening, when I swallowed.

"A few months after you vanished, I wrote to the Vicomte," I said, lowering my chin. She let go of my wrists, backing away.

"And what did you ask of Raoul?" her voice came out a scraggly whisper.

"I asked him, that in the event he knew where you had vanished, of what was your fate...and I wrote to him about Cordelia...I told him she needed her mother because the child was starving..." I trailed off, overcome with grief.

Christine paused, sniffling, and wiping her face.

"He replied back to me. He sounded somber as he wrote that you had been struck by a carriage running away from him, and died. He was under the effects of the poison as well, the Vicomte noted, and experienced tremendous symptoms of memory loss and was hallucinating. We kept writing back and forth for two years before he suddenly was cut off."

Guilt creeping in, I pulled the covers up to my neck. I was starting to have breathing problems again, and needed sleep.

"I'm not angry anymore...don't shut me out like this..." Christine murmured, settling in a seat at my bedside. It was only a few seconds before she had pulled out my wrist, examining all the cuts and bruises of the night before.

I curiously tipped my head her direction.

She didn't notice my stare, only lowered her lips to each spot, placing gentle kisses.

Suddenly I smiled, though soft, I still smiled.

"What is it?" she asked, finally spotting the curve on my lips. I sighed.

"Oh nothing in particular," I remarked with a yawn, "it's just something ironic."

"Ironic? What is ironic about love?" Christine cooed.

I let out a small chuckle. If only Cordelia were here to see...

"It's not about that at all...a little more than a year ago, Cordelia was at my bedside when I took a fall down a flight of stairs, and she was asking about you. But the irony would be, she said she wished you were here to kiss my cuts and bruises."

To Christine, I probably was mad or a bit woozy, for her lips moved to mine as she gave me a final kiss, for now.

"When you awaken, Erik, Cordelia will be with us. I promise when we get her back, I am taking you straight home, since I know you hate being here..." Christine whispered.

Except I wouldn't fall asleep, for in seconds, Nadir burst in the room, panting.

"Madame Giry is on her way!" he called.

"Now?" I stammered in exhaustion, struggling to sit up as Christine strolled over to him.

"Christine, play your part. Get some tears rolling..." Nadir cautioned. Christine nodded, then returned to me.

"What? Part!? You're endangering Christine, too?" I snapped.

Christine helped me to sit up, then determination filled her gaze.

"Angel, in a moment you're going have to be quiet...but I can't cry if I'm not upset. Slap me." she ordered.

My reaction must've startled her, for I barked, "Are you insane?"

Christine nodded.

"You have to slap me as hard as you can...just my wrist, a cheek could be suspicious. Please, Erik, it's to get Cordelia...do you want her home?" she pleaded. I nodded, but responded gruffly.

"There has to be another way other than me harming you...Christine, I won't do it, it would torture me to do so..."

Christine looked me in the eye, and then raised her eyebrows.

"Insult her then. Think of the nastiest insult possible, one that is truthful enough to make her cry," Nadir continued.

Knowing there was no way I was getting out of this, I cleared my throat. What to say? I didn't want to hurt her...

Swallowing hard, I twiddled my thumbs, before snapping, "I can't believe you ran from the house seven hard years ago. I looked everywhere for you...I cried your name until I couldn't anymore, when I found our baby girl in the snow...I thought so bitterly of you. You abandoned her, Christine, you gave up the title of mother when you dropped her like she was nothing in the howling sleet winds...you are nothing but an insensitive whore!"

Midway, a few tears were shed, but not enough.

"Keep going, please, give me your worst," Christine growled. I looked to Nadir pleadingly, no longer desiring to continue, but he crossed his arms and shook his head. Damn him for this!

"I lied when I said that I fell down a flight of stairs a year and a half ago...no, I was attacked coming home from a sideshow. I had to work hours showing my face to paying, gloating fools, while they threw coins at me, that was my only pay. No, I was waling home alone, for Nadir had the day off at his office, and a group of men handcuffed me to a pole, beat me senselessly, then took a knife and lodged it in my shoulder. Once I was on the ground, it didn't end," I choked up, trembling now as I began to cry of my own horrible memories.

"I cried over and over again for someone to save me from this nightmare, but it wouldn't end. They kicked my sides, and punched me so hard I screamed for bloody mercy, until Nadir found me and chased them off."

"It's not enough, Erik," Christine cried, "Make me sob..."

"I can't do this anymore!" I screeched, hurling in defeat. I cradled myself into a ball, shoulders heaving up and down, stress wreaking my every movement.

"You can, Erik, just think of Cordelia and Meg, think how scared they will be if we fail our act and they are sent far away from us." Christine countered.

Gulping, and too frightened to face anyone, I began to speak again, conjuring up another horrible memory.

"There was a time...when Cordelia finally gave up on the idea of you ever being alive. She came to my workspace in the dark attic, and tapped my shoulder. When I asked her why she was sad, she only asked me why I still believed you were alive. I could only tell her...it was because I loved you and I wouldn't give up, when all she said, in the most depressing way possible for a child, that she was about to turn seven, and she didn't think her mother was ever coming home, and she felt I should have accepted your death... Then she walked away and went to her bedroom. Cordelia even locked the door and wouldn't let me talk to her. That, Christine, is grief."

With a wretched sob, Christine fell back against the wall, hands flying over her mouth now. I found that I couldn't find anything to comfort her with, as Nadir took her and led her out the door.

I silently slipped back under the covers. Damn me, damn Nadir! The stupid Daroga...I...I never wanted to hurt her.

I had no more reason to live, given the plan was certain to backfire. The better question was, how to do it? How to kill myself, unable to cope with losing my child, and the blonde, sweet innocent Meg, who was like a sister to me?

I curled into a fetal position on my side, and found sleep would not become of me. I trembled, only thinking, dear god, I was _never_ meant to be a father...


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hello everyone! I have a fun announcement...**

**I am not going to start a new fanfic anytime soon. I have potential 20+ more chapters outlined and a whole extended plotline for this story just now made.**

**I hope that's okay for you all. I can hint two phrases pertinent to this new extension: Fluff, and Family Ties! Can anyone guess who Erik will be visiting in an upcoming chapter? ;)**

**Happy writings~~**

**-PhantomLilac**

.::.

**Christine**

I pitifully sobbed as Nadir and I waited by the booby trapped room. I prayed Erik would stay silent from where he was further down the hall.

Madame Giry entered the hospital, her three prowling lackeys behind her. I flinched, not able to meet her gaze, as Nadir stood in front of me and pointed the doorway to her.

"He's in there. You have your end of the bargain, hand over mine." he said harshly.

"Please don't hurt him...Erik is innocent..." I cried loudly, breaking into hysterical sobs. The act must've been working, for Madame Giry sneered and continued about her act.

Cordelia and Meg were shoved forward, both were gagged and their hands behind their backs. Nadir rushed forward to embrace his wife, and I took my daughter in my arms, removing her gag and beginning to untie the rope around her wrists.

Sweet little Cordelia began to cry herself, wrapping her arms around my neck as I picked her up and held her. She was small for her age, I noticed, for she fit.

"Grandma Giry was going to send me away...and she's gonna kill Papa! Don't let her kill Papa!" Cordelia screeched between fistfuls of my nightgown she had grabbed in her anguish. I held her close, both of us emotionally drained.

But it would be over fast...as soon as Madame Giry opened the door, the police sprang out, bearing guns. The three goons struck out, unsheathing their weapons, but were quickly outnumbered and all four were arrested, stalking away. Nadir said a few words to the police chief, before Cordelia calmed slightly, wiping away her tears.

.::.

**Erik**

The moment I heard Cordelia scream, I knew something had to be going wrong! But what could it be? Had Madame Giry shot someone else? I reached for my beside, pain shooting through my back as I rose to stand.

As soon as I fell back, knees to weak to carry on, I cursed whatever drug Nadir and Christine had used on me...damn them both! I forced myself back up, crawling across the wall like a drunken fly.

I paused, panting before I finally reached the door. I pushed my hands against the wall for support now, my lungs feeling restless and choppy, as I swung the elm door open. Warily exiting the door frame, I pursued down the hall, where I could hear police talking calmly to Nadir.

"Yes, thank you for your help," Nadir prosed in relief.

"No problem, sir. Thank you for alerting us about this criminal." an officer responded.

Out of breath, I found myself leaning against the bay colored walls, as if I were breathing through a straw. Cordelia was sobbing...had Christine not told her I survived the shot?

I finally made my way around the corner, everything inside me burning in sharp, vastly impeccable hellfire, as I saw Christine holding my daughter tight and close. As soon as I was halfway there, Cordelia lifted her head, and shrieked in delight.

"Daddy!" she yelled, wriggling her way out of Christine's arms. In pain, I lowered down onto my knees, outstretching my arms to her, which she gratefully accepted, snuggling her curls onto my nightshirt. I sighed happily...she was alive and unharmed...and she was with me.

"Daddy," she said teary-eyed, her face turning into a pout, "I thought you died...you scared me, Papa, don't ever do that again."

"I promise, Cordelia, I will always be here for you..." I murmured, resting my chin on her small shoulder. She shuddered with a mix of joy and fright. I knew this had more than likely traumatized her, the events of these past two nights, but everything would be okay now...

I tried to stand back on my feet, but instead slumped against the wall with a groan. Lord, the pain! The agony! My hands ran to my throat as I struggled to maintain breathing. Christine rushed beside me in concern.

"Erik, I would've moved you easier if you had stayed in bed... Nadir!" she called. Nadir, and Meg, strolled over.

"I can't breathe...damn you, Nadir Khan..." I cried. Cordelia clung to my arm now, burying her eyes in my sleeve. Around my other arm and my shoulder, Nadir slugged underneath me for support.

"I have the nice, roomy carriage outside. Christine can sit with you while you lay down, and Meg could sit with Cordelia." Nadir explained. Meg nodded, leaving a pecked kiss on his cheek, before she took my daughter's hand and left with her first.

Around my other shoulder, Christine lifted me comfortably on my feet, balancing the support. Oh, how I loathed getting help, but if I didn't, what would become of me?

As we entered the carriage, Christine let go, sitting down, before letting me collapse sideways onto the fine, leathery seat. She guided my head down onto her lap as I closed my eyes, waiting for sleep. Instead I listened in on the conversation.

"Now tell me, are you two alright? We were all worried sick." Christine asked kindly.

"Yes, actually. It's surprising how well I am, and Cordelia certainly is, when we have been stuffed in an oversized trunk for a few hours..." Meg mused.

"I'm okay, Mama. Is Papa okay?" Cordelia chimed in. I forced myself not to smile, for if I did so, I would certainly begin to chatter, and hurt my lung even further.

"Your father is fine. His lung is in bad state, but he'll be walking around normally soon enough."

Soon enough I hoped meant, tomorrow, but with the stitches along my back and on my chest, I was certain I would walk with a staff the rest of my days.

I don't think anyone but I noticed, but Christine had placed her hand over my heart, and the other she stroked my beaten, deformed face with such gentle touches... I knew I would be happy. She was my own, not Raoul's, not anybody's but mine...and our children would be the most loved in the world.


	25. Chapter 25

**Erik**

As soon as we made it home, fixing our broken spirits and renewing a household without Madame Giry, a week passed very quickly and everything started becoming normal.

I had planted myself in my bathroom, at the mirror, and reached up into the cabinets.

I needed my ointment...the special medicine for the scarring on my face. Grasping the small bottle in one hand, I used the other to move slowly back to the mirror.

I looked at the carved, hideous deformity on one side of my face and winced. How I loathed my face...how often it had damned me from happiness...

Squeezing the liquid into my hands, I began to scrub hastily at the scarring with my fingertips, when suddenly Christine entered from behind me.

"Erik! You're going to cut yourself scrubbing so hard...let me help." she gasped, rushing beside me. I rolled my eyes.

Does she have to help me with absolutely everything? Apparently being married meant imprisonment by your household wife.

Christine slowly began to lather the gel onto my face, carefully etching it everywhere and dabbed it with a towel to help it dry. Soon as she was done, I placed my hands against the wall, moving across the room to start up my bath.

Like usual, she also rushed over to help me with that as well. I groaned in defeat.

"Christine, I'm fine...please go away." I complained.

She crossed her arms, scowling.

"Look at you, Erik, you can barely walk. Did you plan in advance how you would get into the bathtub?"

My face burned hot with blush, and I realized what she was getting at. Given I couldn't get up the stairs myself, how could I get in the bath? This was immensely embarrassing.

"Didn't think so," she continued when I did not reply, "Take off your clothes and I'll help you in."

"Take them off?"

"We're married, Erik, take them off." Christine bickered nonchalantly, turning off the bath water.

As soon as I was finished with the bath, she helped me back to the bedroom against my will, and laid me down in bed, before she felt my forehead.

"Erik, you're freezing!" she exclaimed, rushing to get a hot towel.

"Christine...I'm fine, please, you aren't my nanny!" I grunted, feeling the damp towel settle on my bare forehead. Carefully, I peeled it off and set it on my nightstand.

Christine pouted, her brown curls flopping in sync with her shoulders.

"Your problem is you won't accept help..."

"And yours is giving out too much of it." I barked in response, turning away. Without another word, she climbed in beside me and wrapped her arm around my waist. I brushed it off, snuggling into my pillow.

She seemed disappointed with my response, where she cupped my chin, turning me to face her. I frowned, closing my eyes and pulling the covers over my head.

"We've only been married a week and you haven't touched me. You're more intimate with your covers than your own wife." Christine scrounged with a pout.

"I don't want to touch anything right now, I don't feel too well," I responded. When she placed her hands on my shoulders, again I brushed them off.

"Christine, please stop."

"I don't want to, Erik. I want you to kiss me, and hold me, but all you want to do is sleep, it's not fair!"

"What's not fair is how childish you are being. Try being shot in the back and see how you feel afterwards," I stubbornly snapped. When I saw her face grow enraged, I knew I had crossed the borderline, something seething with fury was coming for me.

"And you try being raped for cash for six years, usually more than twice daily!" Christine yelled, before clambering out of bed and heading for the door.

"Now where are you going?" I groaned.

"Oh, what do you care? I could always go back to Raoul if that's what you prefer!"

My heart thudded in my chest. How could she say such a thing? How would Cordelia feel if she walked out on us a second time?

"Okay fine, go then, break our child's heart. Leave her life again, skip away singing into the Vicomte's arms and I'll tell her you died and obviously that will go all peachy." I yelled finally, sitting up with a jolt.

That quick movement sent a stabbing pain through my back, making me cry out in agony and crumple back to a lying position, clutching my throat. Breathe...take deep breaths, the doctor had said, to balance your lungs, but I found it hard to do so.

"Ch-christine," I cried, but she had already ran out on me. I reached desperately for my nightly medicine vial, but it was too far.

I growled in frustration. Why were women so difficult? I rolled onto my hip, which burned, but I needed that vial. I crawled across the bed to reach it, squeezing it in my grip, to which it slipped through my fingers.

The medicine smashed and broke on the floor, oozing everywhere. I collapsed on the bed once more, writhing in pain, before Christine heard the glass break and hurried back in.

"Erik?" she exasperated, looking down at the liquid spilled all over the floor.

.::.

**Christine**

Enraged, I had began to go down the stairs. I knew he didn't mean his harsh words, and I hoped he knew I hadn't meant mine, but he needed to accept help once in a while.

I began to open up the case of teabags, when suddenly I heard glass smash. What had he done now? Had he slammed into something trying to go after me?

I hurried back up the the bedroom, swinging the door open, to find him wriggling in agony and the strong smell of medicine reeking everywhere. I took one step for my shoe to crunch onto broken glass.

My eyes widened.

"Erik?" I, shocked, said.

"Breathe...I can't...I can't breathe..." he whimpered, his hands scrabbling deliriously at his chest and throat. If he kept this up, he would destroy his lungs and the stitches keeping him together.

I hopped onto the bed, kneeling over him and holding his wrists down on the sides of the bed as he gasped for air. He would harm himself otherwise, this I knew.

Erik's amber eyes turned wide and maddened with pain, as I bent down and pressed my lips to his, forcing air into his shattered lungs. He moaned underneath me as I let in another gust of breath.

As I pulled away, his frenzied breathing grew quiet, and he closed his eyes in exhaustion, his thrashing had worn him out for good.

I sweetly kissed his forehead. Tomorrow I would run and get him more medicine, but first I would clean up this mess on the floor.

.::.

**A/N: Well...uh...happy honeymooning for Erik and Christine, huh?**

**Next chapter will be the first introduction of new family ties...and more Meg and Nadir will be in the next chapter, I promise~**


	26. Chapter 26

**Erik**

Dawn's rosy fingers blanketed and peaked the sky.

I arose from bed on a staff, balancing my movements as I walked. Christine was still asleep, and she would have time to bond with Cordelia and relax.

Meg and I had schemed this secret meeting all week. We both knew that Nadir and Christine would object to our ideas, so we would slip out for a while and come back later.

She secured us a carriage, making it easier for me not having to walk around all too much.

I nodded to Meg as we both inconspicuously exited the house, shutting the door behind us, and made way to the carriage. I reached up and handed the driver the coin purse.

"And where to, Mister Y?" the man asked.

"Coney Island Prison, monsieur." I replied. He nodded, and I hopped into my seat where Meg already was waiting.

We sat in silence for a moment, before she spoke.

"You sure neither will be up for a while?" Meg fretted. I smirked.

"I lived in a house with Nadir in Persia for a few years...dear lord, he sleeps like a log. I left Christine a note saying we went grocery shopping, I doubt she'll buy it if she wakes up beforehand but she will leave us alone." I chuckled. She grinned.

"Christine used to snore when she and I shared a room at Maman's home in Paris. When I was a vain and foolish child, I once dribbled honey on her lips in her sleep and it hardened overnight, freaking her out in the morning. It was priceless." she chirped.

It was moments like these I forgot that Meg and I weren't actually siblings. How I wished I had grown up with one, but she had not.

"Meg...I never thought to ask, but don't answer if it's too personal...did you ever have a father?" I asked.

Meg paused, furrowing her brow as she thought for a moment, then shook her head almost mournfully.

"No. Maman used to be a mistress for a handsome Comte once...much like a job Christine had. She bore his child, myself, and he kicked her to the streets. She told me I'm not the daughter of a deChagney bloodline, but a different family altogether. I never knew the identity of my father."

I frowned, but then politely smiled.

"I'm sorry Meg, I never knew that..." I thought myself for a moment, "I never knew my father either. He died before I was born, my mother had told me. I knew his name though, Charles Mulheim. He was a stonemason...he and my mother were very close. Given my deformity had not been possessed at birth, I would've been named after him."

"Well. At least we know another question to ask Maman. She knew your mum, she could know your father too...and reveal my own."

We made it to the prison, and made a request to see Madame Giry. When we arrived, she was still the hollow, maddened shell of her former self, her silver hair wildly frayed about, and her eyes deep and dark. She sneered at our entry.

"Why if it isn't my two favorite people? Damn, Erik, I thought you would've been in a coffin by now." she sarcastically grunted.

I clenched my hands into fists, but Meg grabbed my shoulder, cooing, "don't give her a reason to torment you...be the calmer one."

I sighed, taking a seat.

"We have a few questions to ask you, Antoinette." I growled.

"Oh, lemme begin," she chided, "you want to know why I shot you, and why I hired the same gang members who beat and raped Christine to help me."

"Yes, actually," Meg popped in to keep me from sending some snide remark back, "that's a good start Maman...why would you hurt us? All of us?"

Madame Giry cackled.

"And why wouldn't I? Christine would've taken my job, my money, my happiness. I guess I was wrong about one thing, and that was my initial plans to have you marry Erik. Can't let incest run in the family, right?" she grunted.

"Incest?" I cocked an eyebrow. "Meg and I were playing the act of siblings for Cordelia's sake..."

What was the old crow racking on about now? Whatever it was, I wanted to know. No more lying, no more games.

"You two both have daddy issues, huh?"

"Maman, who is my father? What are you talking about?"

Madame Giry clapped her hands together.

"Oh goody, story time!" she howled, taking a seat. I crossed my arms.

"Go on then, I haven't got all day," I snapped.

She grinned wildly, as she began to tell her story.

"Well you see, Erik, you were born four years before Meg. Your father and Madeleine were falling out of love for each other and when you were born, got a divorce. As disgusted as she was with your face, she refused to let Charles keep you. They went to court, and Charles fought so very hard to keep his only son, but he failed, the court ruling in favor of the birth mother. In grief, years later, he turned to hiring multiple mistresses to pleasure himself, as no women wanted a divorced man to marry. I just so happened to be one of them, and when he impregnated me with baby Meg, he kicked me to the streets. I had to make my own life up as a ballet instructor, and ironically, when you showed at the Opera House and asked my help to establish a reputation as the Opera Ghost, I couldn't help but recognize the deformity on your face as the same as Charles' son's."

I must've looked shocked, because she howled with laughter as soon as she was finished with her tale, I slumped back, everything feeling numb.

"I can't listen to her anymore. Meg, let's go home." I said as calmly as I could bear. I couldn't look at her the same way ever again...this girl who was the best friend of my wife, was my sister as well.

"Erik, I'm sorry, I swear I didn't know," she argued. All I could think...all I could think now is...where is my father?

I swerved, ignoring Meg, and grabbed Madame Giry's neck, yanking her to the bars of her cell. She choked under my massive grip, and I got my face as close to hers as I could.

"Where is Charles Mulheim?" I snarled.

She sadistically smiled. I tightened my grip on her neck.

"Where is my father, you bloody old hag!?" I screeched.

She coughed and choked, Madame Giry did, before I let her go.

"Mulheim Manor in Belgium..." she furiously spat. I grabbed my staff, stoically and stiffly walking away, Meg hastening to catch up behind me.

"If you're thinking what I think you are, I am coming too! I want to know our father!" Meg called. In sheer irritation, I shook my head, taking a seat back in the carriage.

"No. Meg, if what your mother says is true, I need to make the first trip alone. Try to understand..."

"Understand what?" she cried, "understand how unfair you are being?"

I gritted my teeth.

"What is with you women and the word unfair? Life is unfair." I sharply groveled at my sister. She pouted and turned away, knowing I was too stubborn to argue with.


	27. Chapter 27

**Christine**

As soon as the front door swung open and Erik marched past me, that's when I reeled in the questions.

"Where the _hell_ have you been? Erik, I was worried sick, and don't give me the excuse of grocery shopping!" I shouted. Wherever he had been, he was stark pale. He shouldn't have been out so long, it was bad for his health.

"Erik, please slow down, you aren't going anywhere!" Meg pleaded, entering the doorway after him. I placed my hand on her shoulder, stopping her movements.

"Meg...Meg, where have you been?"

"Can't tell you," she responded solemnly.

"And why not?" I crossed my arms. Wide eyed beyond me was Cordelia, who paused, staring onward in horror.

"You will hate both of us for where we went," Meg simply mused, shoving past me.

I sighed, shaking my head, before I turned to Cordelia.

"Breakfast is on the table. Go on and eat."

"Yes, Mama," she chirped dully, skittering past me to go eat.

I bustled up the stairs to Erik's and I's room. Down the hall I could hear Nadir and Meg fussing over something.

I walked calmly to the room, shocked to see him at his desk, scribbling away at something. I leaned up behind him, deciphering what he was writing.

"Belgium?" I asked.

He whirled around, nodding.

"Yes...I'm leaving next week," he said, then began to turn back, but I grabbed his shoulders.

"And how long would you be gone? Why do you need to go to Belgium?" I snapped. How dare he accuse me of walking out on him and Cordelia, when clearly now he was walking out on me.

"Two months, I think."

"Erik," I cried, "you would miss the birth of our second child! Do you not love me?"

With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around me in a hug, the most intimate moment we had shared for in an entire week, before he scooped me down to be seated on his lap.

"I can... I can put it off until Fall, how about that? I just..." he paused, seriously distraught.

"Alright. Until Fall, thank you, but Erik, why do you even need to go to Belgium?" I pressed my head against his chest, closing my eyes.

I was still tired from the arguing we had done last night. He furrowed his brow.

"My father. I learned he lives in Belgium...He must be at least seventy by now. I need to see him, Christine do you understand? I never knew my father...when I was about a year old, he and my mother were divorced and he fought to keep me and lost...shut out of my life..." he grievingly mourned. I cupped his face with my hands, kissing him tenderly on the lips.

"I understand...if my father were still alive and across the sea, I would sail to see him." I murmured affectionately.

"There's one teeny thing I should probably mention, about my bloodline?" he suddenly interjected.

"And what is it? You can tell me anything, Erik."

Erik held my wrist to his lips, pressing a long, soft kiss to it, before his angelic voice softly began to speak again.

"My father...my father is a Comte. Given I am his only son, that means I could inherit the title, making me more powerful than that idiot Raoul."

There was a mischievous, fiery flash in his eyes. I saw it there for a second, but its flames were frightening. As much as I was upset with Raoul...what was Erik thinking? Hanging him?

"Breakfast is on the table, Erik, we mustn't let it get cold," I added, rising back up. As I did so, I had moved ever so quickly, I felt a stirring in my stomach.

"Oh!" I placed my hands on my stomach, the wind knocked out of me.

"Christine? Are you alright?" Erik quickly asked, leaping to my side.

I smiled back up to him, brightening.

"Baby's first kick," I whispered. He smiled warmly, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. He pressed a kiss on my cheek.

"Come now, we don't want to worry poor Cordelia." Erik chuckled.

We sat and ate breakfast at the kitchen table, but I couldn't help but notice how obvious it was Erik was avoiding Meg, and vice versa.

I frowned, taking another bite of my crepes, before swallowing and speaking.

"Someone want to fill me in on what's going on?" I asked casually.

When neither responded, Nadir cleared his throat.

"It was interesting to hear from Meg that they snuck out this morning to see Madame Giry." he growled, glaring at both offenders.

I gagged in shock, coughing and nearly choking on my next bite. Wiping my lips with my handkerchief cordially, I snarled at Erik, "You did what!?"

"Meg, Erik, want to share the news? About your father problems?" Nadir continued almost in a prying way. I gritted my teeth, awaiting this intending response.

Meg and Erik had this hostile glare at each other, like two alley cats about to pounce.

"Not my business to talk to a whore's _bastard_," Erik, in anguish, snapped.

"And not mine to talk to a _deformed rat_!" Meg hissed.

"Both of you stop! Don't use such language at the table!" I yelled, jerking up out of my seat, when everything went horribly wrong...

"You want the truth? Fine. Madame Giry whored herself to my father and Meg is the result. Satisfied, Christine?" Erik grumbled. I strutted over to him, my swollen stomach brushing against the table, and slapped him across the cheek.

Without thinking anymore...of his obnoxious behavior, I took Cordelia's arm, taking her with me from the breakfast table to the upstairs.

Snatching my purse and coats for both of us, I heard Erik march up the stairs. He pushed his arm in front of me in the doorway.

"Please, Christine, I'm sorry. Don't do this to me..." Erik whimpered pleadingly. I shook my head.

"You can't do this to me, either, Erik. You don't want me to walk out on you ever again...you say you are so much better than Raoul, but when you act like this, you scare me. You put Cordelia at harm, do you want to traumatize her for life? Cordelia, we're leaving, come on." I sadly replied.

Cordelia shook her head, tugging her hand out of mine.

"But...I want to stay with Daddy. Mommy please don't fight...he didn't mean it." Cordelia pouted, her eyes growing watery.

With or without Cordelia, I had to get away, at least for a while. I shoved my way past Erik, out the front door, and into the sunlight.

It was my first time out of the house since my marriage to Erik. I wanted to breathe the fresh air...the air without drama or arguing or crying.

I strolled my way down around the park for a walk. I was tired by now, tired and exhausted.

This time when I sat down, on a little wood bench, the baby kicked me again. I stiffened, it was almost...painful. How far along was I again? Now I was worried...I didn't remember.

I wanted to go home. Where was home? Oh great, now I was lost.

I stumbled along the sun blared streets, my feet sore and aching tremendously. I paused to catch my breath. This must have been what Erik felt like...walking without his new staff. Breathless, without balance, weak.

"Christine? Christine?" I heard a voice calling. It sounded like Erik.

I rubbed my stomach again when the baby kicked a third time. It was rather flighty, today huh?

I began thinking. When had I conceived it? It was only the day after Erik had found and rescued me. October...mid October then. So this month was mid June...almost 9 months. My baby was very small then, it wasn't as big and swollen as Cordelia had been.

"Christine, there you are!"

I heard bustling behind me, and Erik was shuffling to catch up with me. He breathlessly panted for a moment, before his face filled with worry.

"Go home, Erik, I'm fine-"

In this little patch by the sea, he pulled me tight into a hug, crying.

I was so confused. Why was Erik crying, and why had he chased me down all the way nearly across his park?

"Christine...I'm sorry...I just...I just didn't want to lose you again. You've been gone three hours, and with the baby coming for not too long...I didn't want to miss this chance again," he sniffled.

I pulled him into a long drawn kiss. How could I stay mad at the man I love?

"It's okay, Erik, I just got a little mixed up and couldn't figure out how to get home. It's not too late in the day, still, if you would like to get some lunch." I tried to think of something I could do, just with Erik.

He nodded, forcing a smile on his weary face. He still looked a bit heartbroken and I could not piece exactly why...but then again, it was Erik, and he always finds a way to be miserable. It wasn't his fault. It was the way he had grown up, just miserable, and with years of heartbreak, it was time for his true self to bloom. Both of us, needed to bloom.


	28. Epilogue

**A/N: I am sorry the story has to end so soon, but I figured that the plotline additions I had originally planned (I was going to have a whole plotline about the letters with Raoul and his scheming with Madame Giry), but it would've been boring and too prolonged.**

**In exchange, I give you a fluffy epilogue (one I hope you all will find heartwarming and pleasing), and announce my new fanfic...**

**My new fanfic shall be a Harry Potter/Phantom crossover! I won't reveal any plot details, but stay tuned, my Potterheads/Phangirls! I was originally opting for an Erik/OC fic but I decided to keep that for the one afterwards. I am so excited for my Potter-Phantom fanfiction, and hope you are, too!**

**-PhantomLilac**

.::.

**Erik**

My shaking hand made its way to the door knocker. Two years, I thought, two years...I had known of the existence of this home and its inhabitants, and I had never tried to arrive.

I grasped the golden handle, drawing it back. I took a long, deep breath, trembling with anxiety and fear, before I banged it three times against the chestnut door.

I wished somehow, my Christine could've came on this trip with me across the sea, with the children, of course. Cordelia, and my toddler Gustave, probably would not have enjoyed the trip at all on the dark side of things. I needed the emotional support, the feeling of somebody to help me through my tormented grief and nightmares.

As the door opened, a little maid blinked her wide eyes.

I swallowed deeply, nodding to her as she cocked her head in confusion.

"Your name, monsieur, and do you have an appointment?" she squawked. I was immediately annoyed with this placid seagull of a woman.

"Um, Erik Mulheim. I don't have an appointment, but I need to see the Comte." I replied.

Her eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"You don't happen to be a cousin or so of the Comte, do you, for you share his last name?" she continued.

Again I nodded. It was rude of her to pry, I thought in the back of my head.

"I will summon the Comte. Do come in, it will rain soon anyways," suddenly the bitter maid became hospitable, "just be aware he is growing old and a bit feeble. The poor man is ever so lonely."

She left me by the closed front doors, to which I took a few steps back, admiring rather beautifully painted and intricate artwork.

I recognized the face of the woman on the painting. It was my mother, Madeleine. I grudgingly remembered how brutal and unkind she was in my youth...and then Javert-no, I couldn't bear to continue. Instead, I glanced over to the man who was standing beside her in the portrait, I could only assume it was my father.

He had been a handsome man, that was for sure. His hair was thick, straight, and rich black in color, much like a heroic prince from a storybook, his chin poised and his eyes filled with determination. I scanned the walls in hopes of any, even sketches, of myself when I was very young, any other lovers, or even Madame Giry, but the painting of himself and my mother seemed the only artwork anywhere.

From behind me, I heard the grand staircase creak as someone left the bottom step, approaching me as calmly as they could.

"Chantelle said you were of relation, dear visitor, but did not have an appointment, how can I assist you?" an elderly, raspy voice asked.

Here it was. Behind me, I knew had to be my father. I gulped. What would he look like now, how would he react? Would he scorn me for my arrival, or be overjoyed?

I turned slowly around, an air of wary peace attempting to surround me, as I glanced at this man. To my surprise, he an inch or two taller than I, and I considered myself an unusual height.

His face was in a wrinkly smile, a white, wispy but thick mustache above his lips, and his eyes a bright, favorable blue. He blinked, awaiting my response.

I quickly caught myself, realizing my awkwardness, before making a response.

"Ah, yes, monsieur, I do believe we are related. I have come, just to simply speak with you." I forcefully curled a soft smile on the corner of my lip. How dreadful for me...faking my joy when my heart was aching, but it was one I would bear for now.

My fist tightened around my suitcase, before he clapped his hands together and invited me to the family room. When we arrived, the doors were shut and he asked me to sit down. I gently took my seat in a simple wooden chair only feet away, as he dwelled in his throne-like recliner.

"If you would like to know, and I see the glint in your eye, if I have a wife or children, to claim my title, then in a way, yes, I do," Charles began unsteadily, "I had a son, who was hideously malformed, but I did love him. His name was Erik, I believe. Unfortunately, his mother, formerly my wife, denied me the rights to keep him, and I never remarried again. If you are here, dear cousin to step up to be the Comte, as much as I would like to give it to you, I wish it would go to my son, but I haven't seen him since he was a babe."

I tensed.

"Monsieur, have you tried looking for this Erik?" I asked, appearing innocent and oblivious.

"Yes, of course. One day Madeleine wrote to me when he was about eight, saying he had ran off, and wanted to know if he had come to my estate. I sent my best men across the country to find him, but he was absolutely nowhere. My heart had broken in two...By now he is probably dead for all I know." Charles explained.

Emotion tugging at my heartstrings, I persisted on almost seductively. I wanted more information.

"Were you aware he was later affiliated with Antoinette Giry, a former mistress of yours? She tried to kill him out of jealousy," I growled, bitter memories returning.

Charles' poor eyes popped, and although I knew I was probably going too far, rage filled his gaze.

"You know where he is, then? Antoinette Giry, that rat, did she succeed? I will hunt her to the ends of the earth if she has done so."

"No, because hers, and your, daughter, Meg, stood in the way and helped jail Antoinette. She died in prison," I coolly responded.

Charles' feeble hands gripped the edges of his seat as he straightened up, tears filling his eyes.

"What has become of Erik? Dear cousin, do tell, I want to know where my son is, please, I beg of you."

I paused, a frown appearing on my face. I couldn't help it, tears began to fall from my eyelids. I...had never even considered, my father, had he been alive as he was now, had ever loved or cared about me, and here he was, an old man, and he still loved me, even as he had never known me his entire life.

"Monsieur, what's wrong?" Charles fretted, "oh dear god above, he's dead, isn't he...?"

I strolled from my seat to the window, staring at the cloudy skies, my shoulders heaving, as my grip on the windowsill made it groan with agitation. I shook my head sadly.

"Charles Mulheim, I came to reassure you he is not dead. Describe to me, though, his deformity, in detail. Just the face." I stammered dizzily.

"He-Erik, he had a rather exposed part of his skull on the top right corner of his head, one end of his lips were swollen and deformed, and the rest of the skin was pulled over his cheek bones. It was terribly unfortunate, and you know what's the oddest, monsieur?" Charles murmured.

"Yes?" I knew what was coming.

"The side of your face where your mask is largest, is where his deformity was. I wonder if it is a family gene. We have been dillydalling over my son this whole time, and I never asked you your name, dear cousin. How impolite of me," he was trying to sound cordial, but the man was wreaking with grief.

I turned back to him, watching the poised man with sadness, before I cleared my throat.

"My name...my name is Erik Mulheim," I whispered raggedly, taking in a sharp breath as I finished. He rose, stunningly terrible grief and torment crossing his face, as he slowly approached me.

The Comte, my father, was only inches away from my face, studying me. I winced, tensing, as he with nimble, weak fingers, pulled my mask away. He did not flinch at my horrible deformity, to my utter surprise and shock, instead stared blankly, tears of his own forming in his eyes, as suddenly, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug.

A ragged sob escaped my lips...if only he had gotten to keep me, none of this grief and suffering would've happened to me, I thought furiously, Madeleine would've never treated me wrong, Christine initially wouldn't have fled from me, and maybe...just maybe the Vicomte deChagney and I, could've even been...friends.

"Mother told me as soon as I could walk and think for my own, you were dead, so I never knew to look," I weeped.

"This is all my fault, not yours," Charles cried, "if only I hadn't hired a cruddy lawyer, I could've kept you...if I had fought harder and frequently, I would've won. I'm so sorry, Erik...but I am so proud, and ecstatic, you are home now."

Home? Home...this was home now. As the thunder clapped across the sky, I saw my life here in a flash. I knew, if I moved my family away from the smoke and noise of Coney to the peaceful manor in the countryside of Belgium, perhaps we would be happier. All of us would be happier, together.

I pulled away from his reunion, opening my suitcase and pulling out the old photo book. I scooped it out and had my father sit down as I told him about myself...I left out a lot of Persia, and the entire Phantom of the Opera ordeal, because I felt, he did not need to know what a failure I had been those years, and what horrible crimes I had done.

At last, I settled upon a page that no doubt Christine had organized when I was distracted with other ordeals.

"And this, father, is my wife Christine," I murmured softly, a deep sadness forming in my heart. How I wished she were here...she would delight upon knowing Charles.

"You're married then?" Charles uttered in disbelief. I nodded, continuing on.

"These are our children, Cordelia, who is ten years old, and Gustave, who has just turned two lately. You would adore them, they are something special indeed."

At last I flipped to the final page, another page, that was almost empty, except it was decked with photos of Meg and her family. A hopeless expression filled me. How was I to talk to him about the daughter he had never wanted?

"This is my sister, Marguerite Giry, but I mentioned to you we all call her Meg. Her husband is Nadir, and they have a young son, three years old, named Reza."

I handed him the hefty book at last, letting him see for himself, and the old man's tears formed again.

"What a beautiful young woman," he marveled optimistically, "I never would've thought, the sins I committed when Antoinette was my mistress, anything beautiful could be mine...two children...I feel so blessed."

I shuddered, as his words were almost an echo of myself.

"That's how I felt, father, when I first saw my daughter, Cordelia," I murmured, "and how beautiful she is, and is continuing to be, wonderful, and so is her brother."

"I would like to meet them, if that is alright. I don't want to be apart from my family any longer." Charles mused.

I nodded, smiling, and shook hands with him. It was done. I would sell Phantasma to my righthand man, Dr. Gangle, and I would no longer have to deal with the stress and bad memories ever again.

I was free at last, from the chains binding me to France, or to America.

.::.

**Christine**

I paced as Meg prepared read aloud Erik's letter to myself and Nadir. It had been over two months, and I was getting worried. Had he been mugged, or seriously injured? He had promised to write back as soon as he had arrived.

"My dear family, I am sorry for taking so long to write to you as I had other affairs to deal with in my temporary stay to Belgium. I regret to inform you I do not plan to return back to America, ever again, for it would kill me to be separated from my father, and kill him to be parted with me. I have obtained the title of Comte Mulheim, thus, I am required to stay at the manor and keep things in order as Charles Mulheim's health falters.

I am sorry for the inconvenience.

-Erik Mulheim" Meg read calmly, but when she was done, she dropped the paper, horror in her gaze.

I gritted my teeth, tears rushing to my eyes. He wasn't coming back? Did he not love me, or care about his children anymore? This couldn't be the same Erik...no, Erik was a kind and loving man. This had to be forged! Who would do foul play on Erik in Belgium? Had Raoul located and obtained his revenge?

"Meg, Nadir, I'm going to Belgium on the next boat right now," I snapped, rushing up the stairs to collect my things.

"Christine, what about Gustave and Cordelia? What if Erik has lost his memory again, or in a coma, or something else more horrible. How about if the letter is a trap?" Meg argued.

"You don't have to come along, nor do they, but he is my husband and although I am doubtful it is him, I can protect myself." I growled back.

.::.

There was no arguing. We each packed up our favorite clothes and things, every one us, for if Erik was going to stay in Belgium, so were we.

We arrived at the door, and since after ten minutes nobody responded, Nadir marched up past me and forced the doors open. Silently and in awe, my children slipped beside me. The lobby was huge, even I had to admit.

Maids scurried about, not even paying attention to us, doing various chores and such. It was so confusing. Meg nudged me, raising her eyebrow.

"We came all the way here...should we just wait here or should we look for him?" she mumbled.

I pursed my lips, thinking.

"I think honestly, we should wait. If he is here, he will show up eventually. Or someone will redirect us to his location," I replied.

I sounded and appeared calm, but I was furious. I did not like boat rides in particular, and of all places, although it was very nice a country, we were in a giant, orderly mansion with no sign of the one dishing out orders...in that case, my husband, who I felt had betrayed me so deeply it hurt.

Until up the stairs, I saw some maids gathering, and at last I heard Erik's familiar voice, then his face. He at a glance appeared worn out and exhausted, but his eyes held brimming excitement and energy.

"Annabelle, please tidy up the guest rooms...with...Emporia. We have a large guest list in only a week, and my father wants this place neat and tidy." he began to, in irritation from a clear lack of sleep, think up a plan.

A maid piped up, "and how is Monsieur Charles?"

"The doctor believe he has just a fever, he is resting so if any of you have hard or laborious chores, please try a little to keep it quiet as humanly possible as you can. All of you are dismissed from this meeting, run along please!"

As they scattered with a shake of his head, he perked up, suddenly realizing we were here. Erik excitingly scampered down the stairs.

Nadir sighed in relief as Erik approached us, an exhausted, weary grin on his face, before out of the blue his arms were around my waist and he pulled me into a tight hug.

"I missed you all so dearly, I am sorry my schedule is tangled at the moment." Erik pulled away, looking dazed and distracted, and myself I was distraught.

Gustave ran up and hugged his leg. Erik glanced down, then recognized Gustave, pulling him up into his arms into a hug. Nadir crossed his arms furiously.

"Erik, what is going on around here? Why do you look like you haven't slept in days, and why did you tell us you weren't coming back to America?" he scolded.

Gently, Erik placed his son back down, who ran back behind his sister, poking his head out from behind her dress.

I placed my hand on Erik's trembling one, before locking both of mine around his, forcing his attention on me.

"Darling, be honest, are you being held here against your will?" I asked sternly.

Erik feverishly shook his head.

"No, I'm fine. I assume you got my letter. I don't plan on leaving." Erik responded. I released a hand, feeling his forehead, which was blazing hot.

I yanked my hand back in frustration and startle. I was about the bicker with him, telling him he himself was down with a fever, but Meg jumped in, holding her son in her arms.

"But Phantasma-"

"That's taken care of, Gangle bought it from me, I sent him the deed and contract. I thought the country air was better for all of us anyways," he muttered.

Nadir's jaw dropped, and before once more any of the adults could ask him anymore questions, Cordelia came out of her shell, running up to her father and weeping, who knelt down and hugged her tight.

"Daddy, I thought you didn't love us anymore...I thought someone had hurt you and made you write that letter," Cordelia cried. He patted her on the back, a mischievous smirk crossing his face.

"Oh, I wrote it like that on purpose. If I told everyone I was fine, you all wouldn't have come."

I raised my hand to slap him, but forced myself not to do so. How dare he toil with our feelings, every last one of us...

Before I could intervene, the head maid appeared.

Erik straightened himself up, nodding cordially. I noticed his movements drastically had become more sophisticated, like Raoul had been brought up to do.

"Chantelle, I have a little tour that needs to be done," he spoke clearly and confidently, "show my children and my sister's family around the manor, just not mine or my father's room at the moment, Father does not wish to be disturbed in his slumber. It is getting late in the day, so per say the upper left wing and then their bedrooms? And send a maid to place Christine's suitcase in my bedroom. Thank you, ma'am."

"Yes, Comte Mulheim. And sir, a friendly suggestion, try to sleep tonight, you are overworking yourself like your father and you're gonna make yourself sick," Chantelle suggested.

Erik nodded, and before you knew it, it was just him and I, alone in the lobby.

The requested maid arrived, took my two heavy suitcases, and to my surprise, lifted them up the stairs and vanished down the hall. Erik didn't speak until she had returned downstairs, respectfully bowed, and hurried away.

Suddenly, he scooped me up bridal-style in his arms, carrying me towards and up the stairs.

"Erik, what are you doing?" I grunted. He smiled rather calmly in the wake of all his stress.

"Why, I am merely guiding my dream wife to our dream room," he cockily remarked. Knowing it was no use arguing with him, I relaxed as he took me into a wide, airy bedroom, and placed me down upon the bed gently. Thin curtains surrounded the bed, and the sunset occurring in the window only made matters more peaceful.

He handed me a nightgown, and strolled off to the wardrobe to change. I waited patiently on the bed, fully changed and exhausted. He snuggled in beside me, shoulders shaking with exhaustion and a slight fever.

"You scared me, you stubborn idiot, with your letter," I growled. From the corner of his lip the sneer returned.

"Why, when there was no fear to begin with? Besides, had I died, you would've remained safe in Phantasma regardless. At least I knew Gustave and he knew me when I had left," Erik stubbornly responded. His responses were usually irrational or moronic when he wasn't well.

"Well you see, there's a little problem with that, Erik," I murmured, cuddling my head on his chest.

"And what would that be, mon ange?" he cooed.

I grinned, my hands moving to cup his masked face. I removed the mask, pressing gentle kisses along his scarred cheek.

"I'm pregnant again, Erik," I responded. His eyes flashed with excitement as he pulled me in for a long, romantic kiss.

"Another child? Well, what a relief. I'd rather have you say that was the problem than perhaps hear about a certain Vicomte," he moaned teasingly.

I giggled, pressing another dainty kiss to his forehead, before relaxing against the rise and fall of his chest, and both of us fell into a peaceful sleep.

.::.

Years and years would pass. As I looked back, as I watched all of my children and family grow, I was truly a blessed and proud wife.

Charles Mulheim, my father-in-law, only had his health deteoriate quickly. He got to hold my newborn son named after him, Charles Mulheim II, and his twin sister, Isa, once before he died. Both Erik and Meg were distraught and traumatized, only knowing their father for a brief few months, but quickly moved on.

Erik and I would have one more child, Edmond Erik Mulheim, in our lifetime, only two years after the birth of the twins. He was a beautiful son who was talented with music, particularly the violin.

Cordelia would grow up and marry a rich suitor named Jacobin Murell, an inventor, and scholar at a university only hours from our home. She had children of her own, and occasionally visited us, but I knew it had been crushing for Erik to no longer have his little girl around the home.

Gustave on the other hand went on to own an opera house, wanting to gain wealth off of it. He named it the Diamond Rose Opera House, and it was a successful business. Gustave also married and had one daughter, but his wife died in childbirth. Erik and I had usual contact with our eldest son, and I believe my husband was fond of our granddaughter, Brigitte, because of her similarities to Cordelia.

The twins, Charles and Isa, would assume different roles in the family. Isa married a wealthy Baron in Germany and like Cordelia, sort of faded from our lives. Isa was never a family person anyways to begin with, a secluded and standoffish child.

When Erik became a bit too weak to be the head of the household and perform daily routines without assistance, Charles, following in his father and grandfather's footsteps, requested to be named Comte. He and Gustave argued over it, before Gustave allowed his brother to become the Comte. Charles was satisfied with being able to stay at home, though constantly my father urges him to at least try to find romance.

Edmond moved to a cottage not too far off, and like all but Charles, married, but never had children of his own. His wife, who is named Jen, was sadly unable to bear children, but allows her to spend more time with her nieces and nephews. They are a remarkably happy couple.

Erik grew weaker and weaker, and after we had thought we had recovered and never needed to use one again, became reliant on a staff to navigate the house. He had to have assistance getting around the stairs every day, and it made him feel useless and defenseless to do so.

On the night he died, he seemed the most optimistic, but pleading. He begged me until I was forced to listen, to sing again for him, the music he had taught me long ago. Then, he asked me to dance with him, insisting it would make him feel better. We dance for hours, and we forgot for a while he was ill. When we were both about to fall asleep, he kissed my forehead and told me, "Christine Daae Mulheim, I love you more than the world and beyond." When I awoke the next morning, I was devastated when I could not wake him, and he never came back to me.

My angel of music died when he was 75. I had been 69 at the time of his death, and for years I would never feel the same.

Meg Giry and her husband would later die only two years later, both six months apart from each other. Their son, Reza, would later go live near Gustave, and marry a women in the Diamond Rose Opera House, a chorus girl to be exact.

However, as I was still a Comtess, I continued to mentor my children and grandchildren as their lives progressed. Cordelia returned the instant she learned her father had died, and together we cried. We had both been the closest to him, the biggest sparks in his lonely world.

I walked alone one night, in the graveyard in which he was buried beside his father.

I heard the jingling noise of bells passing through...but when I glanced around, alas, no one was around. I stiffened, turning back to his grave, to see those leering amber eyes appear from the darkness. He took my hand, smiling.

"Erik, why are you here, is this a dream?" I asked, shivering against the cold.

"No, Christine, it isn't a dream," he calmly replied. I shuddered, collapsing in his arms, as he lowered into sitting, his back against his grave, as he rested my head onto his lap. Erik's wandering hands brushed gently through my greying curls, and I let out a sniffling cry.

"I-I missed you, Erik. Cordelia misses you, all of your children miss you. Why did you have to die so soon?" I cried.

I flinched against as the sound of the bells lingered again. I was certain midnight was approaching rapidly. Erik lifted my chin, kissing my cold lips tenderly.

"I had to go so I could come back for you, mon ange. Try standing up."

We both shifted, and I closed my eyes. When I blinked them awake, we were in an elegant ballroom. My curls were brown and swirling down far beyond my shoulders, my fingertips nimble and youthful.

Erik smiled, and I realized he had also become youthful. When I pouted, his face grew concerned.

"Christine, darling, what's the matter? You promised me in the morning we'd dance," he murmured, taking my hands into his strong, sturdy ones.

I looked away, then flinched when the ringing of the jingling bells reoccured.

"Oh, don't fight that sound, Christine, don't fight this, it is not a dream, I reassure you. It is just time, the bells are chiming in celebration of your departure," Erik tried to reason. I flew out of grip, oh the noise was so loud and painful, the chiming of those dreadful bells.

My hands covered my ears as I curled my knees into my chest on the floor, my ballroom dress sprawling across the floor. Erik knelt beside me, taking my wrists and forcing my hands off of my ears.

"Christine, listen to me," he cooed softly as he could, "they are just Passing Bells. Passing Bells chiming with old memories, they are all gone, and now it is just you and I."

I sighed, wiping away my tears, before staring at the man I loved with all my heart, and allowed him to help me to my feet.

"And now my dear, I believe I am due a dance," he teased gently. As we swirled, entwining in solitude amongst the brightly colored ballroom, those who he and I had loved dearly began appearing. My father, Gustave Daae, his father, Charles Mulheim, and many others, on the sidelines of the tables, cheering and clapping as our song met a climax, and we finished with a tender kiss.

An odd thing really, was in time, I could no longer hear those dreaded bells, or their dreaded noise, no, for I only heard our hearts beating, as at last I knew we were together again, side by side, just Erik and I, right where we belonged.  
.

.

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..

..

.::.

_**~The End~**_


End file.
